BREAST STORIES

My First Summer Running with Big Boobs

Summer runs hit different now that my breasts can do cleavage

When I first started running, I had B-cup breasts. I heard other women complain about how difficult it was to find a decent sports bra that offered good support for bigger breasts, but it wasn’t something I’d experienced. For me, sports bra shopping was easy, and I didn’t need anything too fancy to hold my girls in place and feel comfortable on the run.

All of that changed over the past year or so when my breasts shifted up two cup sizes. I measured myself, got my new size and new bras to match, and thought that I was on my way to getting used to the big-breasted life.

But then, I began training for my second half-marathon. I ran my first back in October 2020 (virtually), and haven’t trained for any longer distances since. Along with the new size in regular old, wear-to-work bras, I had to acquire some new sports bras to accommodate my new chest. Or should I say run bras, because I do actually have to differentiate support levels and buy legit running-specific bras to keep things in place these days. No longer do I wear the same bra for yoga and kickboxing and running.

The other morning, I was out for my run when I realized something had been making me uncomfortable — something aside from the underboob sweat that is now a part of my big breasted life. It’s hot this time of year in PA, so I run in tank tops, all of which I purchased prior to boob-gate 2021. I’m not unfamiliar with running in a tank top or even just my sports bra, and I thought I’d processed any shyness about shedding some layers in the summer heat.

But the thing is, I never had anything resembling cleavage before. My sports bras kept things locked and hidden away, even without a tank top over them. Not so these days, as my daily Instagram story training updates remind me. The girls are on full display, the sports bra holding them in place but not at all hiding them.

As I jogged past a man in my neighborhood, I felt suddenly embarrassed, horribly on display. I knew this particular tank top rode lower, leaving my boobs pushed front and center. He waved hello as I passed by, and I became overwhelmed with the fear that he thought I was trying to be sexy.

I ran on and tried to process through this feeling, hiking up my tank top in an attempt to cover the cleavage I’m still so unused to seeing on myself. What exactly was going on here? Was it that I felt unsafe to know that men could see my cleavage and consider it an invitation when it very much is not? Was I embarrassed to be a runner in a bigger body, fearing the cleavage made me look even less like a “real” runner?

40 minutes on the run didn’t turn out to be enough time to fully work through why I felt this way. I felt some combination of shame and fear any time I ran past someone in that particular run bra and tank top combination. I felt myself planning a trip to the local Fleet Feet to take a look at some run bras in person and try to find one that would cover me up. I wondered if I’d ever run in my sports bra again.

What I do know is that we don’t leave our identities behind when we run. As a woman, I carry the stories of women being attacked and assaulted while out for solo runs with me every time I lace up my shoes and holster my boobs into a sports bra. These stories are with me step after step, cleavage or not. It has occasionally occurred to me to wonder how much faster and further I could run if, suddenly, I wasn’t just running but running away.

Speed and training goals aside, one of the things I strive for on the run is looking too focused, too determined, and too tall to be a target. The bare tops of my breasts make me feel exposed, both literally and figuratively. I fear all those messages that get made up about women, about what we wear or where we go. Our choices and how they’re made add up to consequences, blaming us rather than those who perpetrate violence.

The men I jogged by might not have even noticed my cleavage. Perhaps other runners with breasts have cleavage all the time, and it’s never occurred to me because my breasts used to hide so easily behind the fabric of the cheapest sports bra. And yet… for a moment, I felt real fear and shame and confusion about this strange new world of being a woman whose breasts make themselves visible in this way.

My relationship with my body continues to evolve, and I’m trying to make peace with her. I want to say that I’ll run in whatever the hell I want, that I’ll keep my funny tank tops even if they no longer cover up my cleavage. But I can’t deny that that’s not where I’m at right now, that I haven’t yet parsed whether this is the kind of discomfort to work through or the kind to be gentle with.

I’d love a world where I don’t have to be scared about what men will assume based on my boobs. But I can’t deny that that’s not where the world is at right now.

I can’t say where I’ll be in a week or a month or a year of running with D-cup breasts. All I know is that I’ll lace up my running shoes and I’ll get out there again. I’ll wear whatever I’m comfortable in when I’m comfortable in it. Maybe I’ll have another sports bra squad summer or maybe I’ll buy twenty new tank tops with higher necklines. Whatever I wear, these boobs and I have some running to do.

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