In doing historical research, it’s hard enough trying to decipher the significance of a document staring you in the face as it lies comfortably on a weird large pillow archives use to protect primary sources. It’s a whole other Costco-size can of worms figuring out whether, within that document, there is evidence of the existence of forms of human agency, of how ordinary people, not just those near the controls of power, were actually experiencing and making history

The hundreds of hours that I have spent running on sidewalks, trails, roads, and fields are perhaps the times when I have been most aware of my body. In contrast to Leder’s (1990) concept of the “disappearing body”, where the body “is largely absent from conscious thought in everyday life” (Allen-Collinson & Owton, 2014, p. 3), running can be characterized by “intense embodiment” or a “[period] of heightened awareness of corporeal existence” (ibid.).

The tragedy of a young life lost, the absurdity of an empty baseball stadium, and the rage of rioters in the streets of Baltimore… What does PCS at Maryland have to say in this moment?

In their article, “Toward a Physical Cultural Studies,” Michael Silk and David Andrews (2011) explicated the need for a “complementary field of study” (p. 6) alongside the sociology of sport, presenting Physical Cultural Studies as a project with the potential to “empower and compel ourselves, and others within the academy, to develop and apply critically-informed physical culture-oriented research in a manner that impacts, and is meaningful to, the range of communities who we have the potential to touch” (p. 5).

During my years as a graduate student in Physical Cultural Studies (PCS) and Women’s Studies, I was often asked how I felt feminism did or did not “fit in” with PCS. The critique of PCS for its disregard of feminist scholarship is justified, and, in my opinion, rooted in issues with theorists utilized in PCS and its base in cultural studies.

Every Friday at 6:30 a.m., a group of Australian outdoor enthusiasts take over Bondi Beach decked out in brightly colored surfing and yoga apparel, with equally fluorescent gear in tow. The weekly outings, organized by a nonprofit organization called One Wave, are appropriately called Fluro Friday.

Country Music Television’s (CMT) Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team is an American reality television show that takes an in-depth look at the audition process for the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleading (DCC) squad. Through following the evaluation of over five-hundred girls down to the elite thirty person team showcases that the process of becoming a professional cheerleader for the National Football League (NFL) is highly physically and emotionally competitive. In true sensationalist “reality” television fashion the women are put through rigorous training including hair and wardrobe makeovers to transform them into individuals who will “properly represent the DCC brand” (CMT, 2015).

As I think about it now, there doesn’t have to be a reason why I listen to the Rugby, England band Spiritualized so much. But, lately I’ve been thinking there is. For some reason, since I was in high school, I’ve felt a personal connection to their music more than any other band or musician, a connection that persists. I don’t listen for distraction, or to get away from, as Neil Young called it, “the day-to-day running around.” It’s more than that for me: it is as if I learn about myself through their words and music.

In that fateful moment when pen slides across paper and rights slip away, whose thoughts have not drifted in the direction of, ‘‘Why am I not getting paid directly for this?’’ And who has not then experienced a modicum of regret upon suddenly feeling so . . . entrepreneurial? (Striphas, 2010, p. 7-8) What dissonance accompanies the act of publishing?

A little less than four months have passed since packing up and moving to Tallahassee. The trip from Baltimore to Florida was long, but has so far proven to be worth it. Since arriving on New Year’s Day, we’ve utilized several of the local parks the city manages. Every Saturday morning, I play in an informal baseball league at one of two public ball fields where I’ve met new friends and glorified my childhood dreams.