Introduction
Summary of the Book Good for a Girl by Lauren Fleshman. Before moving forward, let’s take a quick look at the book. Imagine stepping onto a racing track where the rules were never made with you in mind, where your body’s natural changes are misunderstood, and your image is judged more than your skill. In Good for a Girl, Lauren Fleshman shows us what it means to compete, learn, and survive in such an environment. We see her run through victories and defeats, meet allies and barriers, and find her voice where others tried to silence it. This is not just a tale of winning medals; it’s a story of demanding understanding, respect, and equality for women athletes everywhere. It encourages us to question old traditions, embrace knowledge, and celebrate differences. By reading her story, we sense a growing hope that future generations will step onto fairer playing fields, ready to shine without compromise.
Chapter 1: Witnessing Athletic Dreams and Realizing Shifting Boundaries While Growing Up in a Rapidly Changing Body.
As a young girl, Lauren Fleshman imagined that the world of sports offered equal possibilities for everyone, no matter their gender. Back when she was just a child, she believed that if a boy could run fast, climb a fence, or throw a ball with impressive skill, then she could do it just as well, if not better. Her playground challenges were small but meaningful tests of her speed and spirit. On schoolyard courts and fields, she raced the boys, whirled through games of tetherball, and sprinted ahead in daily fitness tests. At that time, her body hadn’t yet undergone the sweeping hormonal changes that were waiting quietly around the corner. For Lauren, childhood was a time of feeling truly unstoppable, when her strong legs and fearless determination opened doors onto fields of promise.
But the innocence of those early victories began to fade as she approached her teenage years. One day, a surprising defeat at the hands of a boy in a school race forced Lauren to face a difficult truth: something unseen was shifting beneath the surface. While her mind remained confident and her heart still burned with competitive fire, her body was starting to change in ways she couldn’t control. This was the slow and steady approach of puberty—a natural event that would alter the pace and pattern of her physical progress. Before, boys and girls could compete on nearly even ground, but with adolescence, strength, energy levels, and body shapes began to follow separate paths. Lauren saw once-familiar opponents transform into stronger, faster runners, and it was hard to understand why.
Puberty brought different growth spurts and hormonal fluctuations for girls and boys, causing their athletic abilities to diverge. As Lauren watched her female classmates become self-conscious and reluctant to participate in certain activities, she realized just how powerful these changes could be. Studies showed that many girls, when faced with developing bodies and the discomfort of changing proportions, withdrew from sports, sometimes permanently. For those who continued, it meant learning how to work with a body that moved differently, carried weight differently, and responded to exercise in new, unfamiliar ways. For Lauren, a late start to these body changes allowed her to keep chasing her dreams on the track a bit longer, but the reality was clear: the playing field was never truly level, and biology was reshaping the game.
Still, Lauren’s dedication didn’t waver. By the time she reached high school, she found herself hitting incredible milestones. Competing fiercely, she earned invitations to prestigious cross-country championships, like the Foot Locker Cross-Country Nationals, and claimed victories at the California State Championships. Coaches noticed her unwavering stamina and the way she could push through discomfort to cross finish lines ahead of her rivals. Meanwhile, universities took interest, sending letters promising opportunities to nurture her talent. Though the hurdles of puberty stood tall, Lauren leaped over them for now. By delaying the body changes that slowed other girls, she continued to stand out. At that moment, the world looked ripe with possibility: the cheers of a crowd, the scent of a freshly cut field, and the feeling of wind rushing past as she ran toward her future.
Chapter 2: Facing Invisible Shifts and Struggling to Understand Female Physiology During College Sports Years.
When Lauren headed off to Stanford, a mix of excitement and uncertainty danced in her heart. The college environment held the promise of top-tier training facilities, world-class coaches, and a team of dedicated athletes who would push her to grow stronger. Back then, she didn’t fully realize that the same forces that guided male athletes to peak performance ages between 18 and 22 could work quite differently for women. In the early days of her college career, she still shone brightly. Her freshman year ended triumphantly, earning her All-American status and even a spot to compete at the Olympic Trials for the 5,000-meter run. It seemed as if the future sparkled with endless opportunities, and her running dreams seemed ready to lift off like a sprinter at the starting gun.
But in her sophomore year, Lauren noticed subtle yet troubling changes. Her performance began to dip, not from lack of effort or poor training, but from something deeper inside her body. Although she tried to maintain the same intensity and determination, her races felt heavier and harder, as if invisible weights clung to her limbs. Meanwhile, her teammates experienced similar struggles. The women’s team, once brimming with potential, found itself falling short of previous successes. While the men’s team basked in victories and set dazzling records, the women grappled with confusion and frustration. Coaches, unaware of the complexities of female physiology, pushed them harder, suspecting that more drills, stricter diets, or intense mental focus would correct the course.
The real issue lay hidden: women’s bodies respond differently as they mature. While men’s bodies are primed for peak strength at precisely the age when many athletes compete in college, women’s bodies are evolving in ways related to childbearing potential. Shaming and scolding female athletes for not achieving certain standards only added to their stress and risked pushing them into destructive habits. Some began to limit their food intake in a desperate attempt to regain an imagined ideal form. Others felt the sting of coaches pinching their stomachs or inspecting their thighs, searching for signs of unwanted fat. Instead of understanding, these young athletes received judgment, which could lead to chronic health issues, disordered eating, and even hormonal imbalances that left them weaker rather than stronger.
This pointed to a serious need for change. Coaches, trainers, and sports organizations had to embrace scientific knowledge about female physiology rather than pretend men’s and women’s bodies functioned exactly the same. Athletes deserved guidance that respected their unique biology. Policies needed to be put in place to protect female athletes from harmful expectations and unhealthy behaviors. If concussion protocols were strictly managed, why not implement rules to safeguard against eating disorders and related conditions that could devastate young women’s careers and well-being? For Lauren, these early college experiences planted the seeds of awareness. Later in her journey, she would fight to reshape the understanding of female athletics, ensuring that other women wouldn’t have to endure the same confusion and quiet suffering that overshadowed her college years.
Chapter 3: Chasing a Mirage of the Perfect Racing Weight and Discovering the Hidden Dangers Within.
After graduating from Stanford with notable achievements, Lauren stepped into the professional realm of track and field. Unlike major team sports, professional running offered no guaranteed salaries from clubs. Instead, athletes relied on sponsorship deals, often with big sports brands. Lauren secured a $60,000-per-year contract with Nike, a lucrative sum but one that came with high expectations. The Olympic Trials loomed on the horizon, a monumental gateway that required her to meet certain time standards just to compete. Her life quickly became a carefully measured routine: early morning runs, meticulous meal plans, and unrelenting focus on hitting the exact racing weight that she believed would grant her swiftness and endurance. The pressure to shape her body into a perfect running machine intensified with every passing day.
Inspired by successful pro athletes like Paula Radcliffe, Lauren thought achieving a certain low weight would unlock that next level of performance. When she trained at Stanford’s facilities as a graduate student, she was careful with her nutrition and made sure to rest properly, feeling strong and balanced. But then, she moved to Ohio to train under coach Vin LaNana. There, she rented a room from an elderly woman who cooked smaller portions than Lauren’s body needed. Gradually, Lauren’s energy intake dipped, and she began shedding weight quickly. At first, this seemed like no big deal. She saw it as a step closer to that magical number on the scale, an elusive target she believed would give her wings on the track.
However, the body is not a machine that can be pushed without consequence. By over-focusing on weight, Lauren unknowingly set herself up for disaster. Before long, a serious foot injury surfaced, a stress fracture on her second metatarsal bone. The cause was hidden in plain sight: she had not been fueling herself enough to support the intensity of her workouts. This condition, later understood as Relative Energy Deficiency in Sport (Red S), not only weakens bones but also impacts menstrual health, heart function, and overall strength. Forced to cross-train in a pool, watch races from the sidelines, and ultimately miss the Olympic Trials she had worked so hard for, Lauren began to recognize the grave cost of chasing a perfect racing weight.
Red S taught Lauren a painful lesson. The problem did not simply rest on an individual athlete’s shoulders; it was fueled by an environment that placed unrealistic demands on women’s bodies without providing the knowledge or support they needed. To prevent others from falling into the same trap, coaches must learn about Red S, medical experts must advise on proper nutrition, and athletes must be encouraged to listen to their bodies. The endless search for a lower number on the scale runs counter to the very idea of nurturing strong, healthy competitors. Rather than fixating on weight as some golden key, the sports world must value stable, well-rounded health, creating a supportive framework that helps female athletes reach their true, unencumbered potential on the track.
Chapter 4: Challenging the Unseen Camera Lens and Unmasking the Objectification of Female Athletes in Marketing.
Returning from injury, Lauren proved her resilience. She traveled overseas, earning a bronze for the US team in a cross-country championship in France. She tasted victory in national competitions and proudly represented her country in prestigious events. These wins caught Nike’s attention, and they rewarded her with an even better contract. Yet, as her career soared, something else hovered on the edges of her vision: the marketing and portrayal of female athletes. One day, Lauren flipped through a catalog of Nike’s women’s line, expecting to see authentic sportswomen who trained, sweated, and competed at elite levels. Instead, page after page showed glossy models who clearly didn’t belong to the athletic world. It felt like a betrayal, as if real female athletes were invisible when it came to advertising gear made for them.
This bothered Lauren deeply. Female athletes in reality were strong, skilled, and passionate, yet brands often preferred images of women who embodied a narrow, polished version of beauty unrelated to actual sport. Lauren mustered her courage and wrote an email straight to Nike’s CEO, Mark Parker, voicing her frustration and proposing a new approach. To her surprise, Parker listened. Soon Lauren and other real female athletes posed for the next campaign—athletic, confident, and fully themselves. The sight of their images in Nike’s stores felt like a victory. They were showing the world that athletic women are not just good for a girl, but deserving of respect, recognition, and representation. However, this was only a first step in dismantling a deep-rooted problem.
The issue went beyond catalogs. Lauren discovered that sometimes brands wanted female athletes to appear in daring photo shoots or reveal more skin to sell their products. Once, she was asked to pose naked to promote a women’s running shoe—an absurd request that underscored how women’s bodies were treated as commodities. For Lauren, posing without clothes as a means to market a product felt like a heavy burden. She knew that young girls looking up to professional athletes needed role models who stood for skill, perseverance, and genuine strength, not for how much flesh they could show. She wanted to ensure girls and women saw that they could achieve greatness in sports without sacrificing dignity or bending to someone else’s shallow definition of worth.
Determined to turn the tables, Lauren proposed a powerful alternative. In a new ad, she proudly declared Objectify Me—but not by stripping down. Instead, she highlighted her body’s purpose, strength, and capability. She wanted to make people think twice before reducing female athletes to decorative objects. The campaign stirred conversations, shining a spotlight on how deeply ingrained gender biases were in the marketing world. More importantly, it offered hope. Female athletes didn’t have to quietly accept how the industry tried to frame them. They could rewrite the narrative. For Lauren, this fight was not just about her own image; it was about paving a clearer, more respectful path for future generations, so they would not have to battle the same outdated perceptions she encountered.
Chapter 5: Searching for Her Voice While Battling Injuries and Disappearing Media Coverage in a Male-Dominated Arena.
With more opportunities came more challenges. After successful races in prestigious events like the London and New York Diamond Leagues, Lauren set her sights on the 2008 Olympic Trials again, determined to finally earn her place on that revered stage. Yet fate intervened cruelly. She suffered another foot injury, a tiny fracture in her navicular bone that demanded surgery and forced her away from the track. For an athlete whose life revolved around training and competition, inactivity was a foreign, unsettling experience. With months of forced rest, her identity and purpose felt slippery. She had to find a way to stay connected to the sport she loved and to remain present in the minds of fans who only saw athletes when they performed.
Turning to the internet, Lauren carved out her own space: asklaurenfleshman.com. On this website, she could share her stories, struggles, and insights openly. Gone were the days of waiting for a journalist to call or hoping for a mention in a sports magazine that mostly covered men’s events. Online, Lauren had a direct line to the people who cared about women’s running. She answered questions from aspiring young athletes, discussed training tips, and talked openly about tough topics like eating disorders, injuries, and recovery strategies. Here, she wasn’t just an athlete; she was also a mentor, a beacon of honesty in a world that sometimes preferred to gloss over female challenges.
At that time, media coverage of women’s sports was still painfully scarce. Even when female athletes broke records or achieved stunning victories, their stories often remained overshadowed by men’s events. Funding, sponsorship, and attention flowed easily toward the men’s side, leaving many talented women fighting for mere scraps of the spotlight. Lauren’s website let her sidestep traditional media gatekeepers. She could tell her truth without waiting for someone else’s camera crew. Her words reached not only hardcore fans but also curious newcomers who discovered that women’s athletics offered depth, drama, and fierce competition, every bit as captivating as men’s sporting narratives.
This online platform changed Lauren’s role. She was no longer just an athlete running laps and crossing finish lines. She became a storyteller and an educator, shaping how others perceived female runners. Her words challenged stereotypes, sparked important conversations, and reminded readers that women’s athletics deserved equal respect. As her physical wounds healed, Lauren returned to racing eventually, but she never forgot the power of having a direct voice. The barriers that once kept female athletes in the shadows began to crack. Through open communication, communities formed that recognized the complexity of female bodies, admired resilience over perfect bodies, and celebrated achievement without objectification. Bit by bit, Lauren’s journey was becoming a blueprint for a better, more equal future in sports.
Chapter 6: Stumbling Back Onto the Track and Learning That Defeat Need Not Silence a Fighting Spirit.
Under the guidance of a new coach, Mark Rowland, Lauren made a bold return to running. Once again, she performed well at the national level, traveling to the World Championships in South Korea and finishing seventh, an impressive American record at the time. She tried new events, like the New York City Marathon, hoping to find fresh strengths and maintain a career that had known too many interruptions. But the relentless pattern repeated itself: injury struck close to major events. Before the 2012 Olympic Trials, Lauren found herself hampered by physical setbacks. The odds of doing well were slim; she knew her body wasn’t ready. Still, she decided to compete, acknowledging that this might be her last shot at the dream she’d chased for so many years.
As predicted, she finished last in the trial race. Instead of outrage or disappointment, the crowd welcomed her struggle with surprising warmth. Fans cheered, understanding that showing up, flawed and wounded, still took courage. Among those supporters was Sarah Lesko from Wazell, a Seattle-based women’s athletic apparel brand. Wazell wasn’t looking for a picture-perfect champion; they wanted a partner who understood that female athletes needed better representation and stronger support. They believed in athletes who embraced authenticity, and Lauren, with her honesty and complexity, fit perfectly into their vision. Signing with Wazell opened a door to a community that valued more than medals—it wanted to change how female athletes were seen, treated, and celebrated.
Through Wazell, Lauren found ways to influence the sports world beyond her own races. She continued writing, both on her blog and in other outlets, tapping into her personal experience to address issues like health, body image, and respect for athletes. She joined forces with likeminded individuals—coaches, sponsors, and athletes—who understood that true progress required dismantling old structures of judgment and inequality. Lauren realized that every setback and missed Olympic opportunity gave her a richer perspective. She had learned that championing female athletes was about more than just personal glory; it was about changing systems, from how training was planned to how success was defined. In working with people who shared her vision, she found that failure could be turned into fuel for meaningful change.
Embracing her evolving role, Lauren eventually took on a coaching position herself, guiding younger athletes who looked up to her endurance and honest storytelling. She put into practice the lessons learned from her struggles—prioritizing health, acknowledging the importance of balanced nutrition, and nurturing a supportive environment. The focus began shifting from chasing hollow perfection to building sustainable careers that honored female physiology. Slowly, she helped craft a team culture that valued well-being above all. The applause at the end of her losing race had marked a turning point. It whispered that the measure of an athlete’s worth wasn’t just their spot on a podium. It was the integrity of their journey, the depth of their struggles, and the heart they poured into making sports better for everyone.
Chapter 7: Confronting Red S, Disordered Eating, and the Silent Harmful Pressures That Female Athletes Face.
Over time, as Lauren coached and mentored, she encountered many young women who faced the same quiet terrors she once had: the constant urge to fit a narrow image, the pressure to drop weight to run faster, and the shame that came when performance dipped due to natural body changes. Behind every strained smile, she recognized the warning signs of underfueling—fragile bones, fatigue, and menstrual irregularities that signaled deeper issues at play. Disordered eating, sometimes hidden under words like clean eating or strict calorie control, took a toll on these promising athletes. Lauren understood the destructive cycle well: training hard, eating too little, feeling weaker, and running slower. Instead of blame, these athletes needed understanding, guidance, and a system that wouldn’t push them toward unsafe extremes.
Lauren discovered that it was not enough to simply warn athletes. Coaches, managers, sponsors, and sports federations needed education. They had to learn the signs of Red S, understand the delicate hormonal balance in women’s bodies, and respect the natural variations in each athlete’s physical development. Telling a girl to just run faster or eat less overlooked the complexities of maintaining a healthy athletic career. Instead, training needed to match fueling, and rest needed to be viewed as essential rather than a luxury. Medical professionals familiar with sports nutrition and female physiology had to be involved. Athletes must feel free to speak about their struggles without fear of losing their spot on the team or their contract with a brand.
By sharing her own story of injury and heartbreak, Lauren showed that facing Red S was not a sign of weakness, but an opportunity to fix what was broken in the system. She encouraged open dialogue between athletes and coaches, emphasizing that understanding female bodies was crucial for long-term success. If a young runner knew her coach truly valued her health, she would feel safer admitting when something felt off. She would be less likely to risk permanent damage for short-term gains. Red S couldn’t be conquered by silence or shame. It required a collective effort and the willingness to question old methods. Lauren’s advocacy laid the groundwork for new conversations that aimed to prevent young women from sliding into the same traps she had struggled to escape.
Though progress was slow, it could be seen in small yet meaningful shifts. More conversations at the collegiate level highlighted female-specific challenges. Some teams began consulting experts on nutrition and hormonal health. Sponsors began valuing athletes’ overall brand—spirit, leadership, and resilience—instead of fixating on mere body measurements. The pressure to achieve a certain ideal body shape lost some of its grip as athletes learned that individuality was not a flaw but a strength. Lauren’s role in this change was subtle but profound. By shining light on the pain and confusion female athletes endured, she helped chip away at harmful traditions. Through honesty, empathy, and tireless effort, the path to a healthier future for female athletes became a little clearer with each step forward.
Chapter 8: Building a Legacy of Empowerment Through Team Culture, Brand Allies, and Thoughtful Coaching.
As Lauren continued to make her mark both on and off the track, she joined forces with people who believed in transforming the status quo. With Wazell, she found not just a sponsor but collaborators who celebrated the fullness of a female athlete’s journey. Together, they confronted athlete exploitation and questioned outdated business models that valued profit over health. Lauren’s words, whether in a blog post or a panel discussion, resonated because she had lived through the struggles she described. No one could dismiss her experiences as theory; they were scars earned on the track, in training rooms, and during recovery. By sharing them openly, she inspired other athletes to speak up, and slowly, a network of empowered voices began to form.
As a coach, Lauren focused on nurturing complete athletes. She founded Little Wing Athletics, a team of women runners committed to supporting each other through life’s ups and downs. Instead of commanding them to cut calories or obsess over body shape, Lauren encouraged them to learn from their own signals. If someone felt exhausted, they rested. If a runner struggled with self-image, they talked about it openly. Instead of attempting to fix problems by pushing harder, they stepped back and addressed underlying issues. Sometimes this meant adjusting training loads to match energy availability. Other times it meant consulting nutrition experts who respected women’s bodies and sought balanced solutions. The results were athletes who could sustain their passion without sacrificing long-term health.
These efforts didn’t mean medals ceased to matter. Winning was still a goal, but it was not the only one. A runner’s worth no longer hinged on a single result. The well-being of each athlete became a shared responsibility. Coaches learned that trust was built through honest conversations, not by issuing blame for failing to meet unrealistic standards. Brands realized they could market genuine athleticism and authenticity, appealing to fans who loved watching real women, not airbrushed fantasies. Gradually, a community emerged that valued personal growth, teamwork, and understanding over conforming to outdated norms. While not perfect and still growing, this community hinted that a new era was on the horizon—one where women’s sports would thrive, supported by knowledge, care, and respect.
Of course, changing an entire industry didn’t happen overnight. It required persistent effort and countless small victories—convincing one coach to rethink training guidelines, encouraging one sponsor to highlight an athlete’s story instead of her waistline, giving one young runner the confidence to keep going despite natural changes in her body. As Lauren and her allies pressed forward, more people saw that sports, at their heart, should uplift rather than undermine. Girls learned they didn’t have to quit when their bodies matured; they could embrace the athlete they became. The path Lauren helped forge signaled that a kinder, more informed approach was possible. This quiet revolution spread like ripples in a pond, reaching beyond track lanes and locker rooms and into the future of women’s athletics.
Chapter 9: Planting Seeds for a Future Where Women’s Bodies and Voices Claim Space in Every Field of Play.
As Lauren’s journey continued, the lesson became clearer: systemic change requires more than one woman’s effort. It demands a collective willingness to recognize that women’s sports have long been measured by men’s standards, ignoring crucial differences in physiology, training needs, and the stories that shape each athlete’s path. The old methods—pushing women to run on empty, chasing unrealistic standards of thinness, or shoving them aside for more marketable images—had to fade. Athletes, coaches, brand managers, fans, and sports authorities had to join hands to rewrite the rulebook. By speaking up, Lauren encouraged others to do the same. Whispered concerns turned into confident declarations that female athletes deserved equal attention, support, and understanding.
Schools, colleges, and professional teams started discussing nutrition and training guidelines informed by research on women’s health. Media outlets began to realize that covering women’s sports produced compelling stories, passionate audiences, and role models that inspired communities. There was a growing sense that young girls deserved to see strong, confident women athletes who did not apologize for their muscles, who refused to disappear when their bodies changed, and who performed with skill and determination. This shift helped break the cycle of fear that had held many young athletes back—the fear that growth or weight gain would rob them of their place in sports, the fear that having a voice would cost them their contracts, the fear that they could never be truly accepted.
As these seeds of change took root, new initiatives blossomed. Sports organizations reconsidered their policies, inviting experts to guide them. Coaches attended workshops to learn about female physiology, menstruation, and the importance of balanced fueling. Brands found success by showcasing authentic stories, celebrating athletes who embraced their unique journeys. Athletes themselves reported feeling more empowered, less alone. They knew that they could refuse unhealthy demands, challenge unfair practices, and carve out a place in the sports world on their terms. And while there was still much to do, there was now a roadmap, marked by those who came before them, who fought quietly and loudly to forge a better path.
In this new landscape, the future shone brighter. Girls could dream of becoming champions without dreading the moment their bodies began to change. They could trust that coaches would listen, brands would respect them, and fans would cheer them on with genuine admiration. The old barriers—silent misunderstandings, dangerous dieting, shameful objectification—were steadily being dismantled. Lauren’s journey, from a fiercely competitive girl on the playground to a professional runner challenging norms, had helped ignite this shift. Though not everything was perfect, progress was visible. The sports world, once rigidly shaped to fit only one body type and one narrative, was beginning to open its doors to every shape, every story, and every woman ready to run her race on her own terms.
All about the Book
Explore the intersection of sports and gender in ‘Good for a Girl’ by Lauren Fleshman. This empowering memoir challenges stereotypes, shares personal stories, and inspires female athletes to embrace their identity in an often male-dominated world.
Lauren Fleshman is an accomplished former professional runner and passionate advocate for female athletes, using her experiences to empower and inspire the next generation through her writing and public speaking.
Sports Coaches, Athletic Trainers, Sports Psychologists, Educators in Physical Education, Gender Studies Scholars
Running, Writing, Fitness Training, Advocating for Women’s Rights, Reading Biographies
Gender Inequality in Sports, Mental Health of Athletes, Body Image Issues, Female Empowerment
The only person who can define your worth is you.
Shalane Flanagan, Des Linden, Meb Keflezighi
2023 Best Sports Memoir, Runner’s World Book of the Year, Women in Sports Journalism Award
1. How can embracing vulnerability enhance personal growth? #2. What lessons can we learn from female athletes’ challenges? #3. How does society shape our perceptions of success? #4. In what ways can sports empower women’s voices? #5. How can we confront stereotypes in athletic environments? #6. What role does mental health play in sports? #7. How do friendships impact athletic performance and wellbeing? #8. Can storytelling foster greater understanding of women’s experiences? #9. How can we advocate for equitable treatment in sports? #10. What practices promote body positivity among athletes? #11. How does parental support influence young female athletes? #12. What strategies can help navigate competitive pressures effectively? #13. How can we cultivate resilience through sports activities? #14. In what ways does training affect mental toughness? #15. What insights can be gained from personal failure stories? #16. How does imposter syndrome manifest in athletic pursuits? #17. What is the importance of representation in sports? #18. How can mentorship impact a young athlete’s journey? #19. How do societal norms affect women’s athletic ambitions? #20. What value does vulnerability bring to competitive environments?
Good for a Girl, Lauren Fleshman, running memoir, female athletes, sports psychology, women in sports, athlete stories, running inspiration, self-discovery through sports, gender in athletics, memoir for athletes, personal growth and sports
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