I hurt everywhere today. Training yesterday was brutal. Someone asked me what Jacob (my trainer) had me do. "Nothing," I told her. "He just had me lie on the floor while he kicked the living hell out of me for about an hour."
That's kind of what it felt like, and today it definitely feels like that's what happened. It hurts walking up and down the stairs. It hurts to move my head. It hurts to type. So what am I doing today? Zumba. Who IS this person?
What happened to spending the day resting between meals? When did I trade in my bathrobe for workout clothes? When did I start taking pride in how much of my tee shirt I can soak with sweat in an hour? (by the way, it's a LOT.) The times they are a changin', and it's not easy. Not by a long shot.
Swinging 25 lb. kettle bells around in the air is hard. Pulling my trainer up and down the length of the gym is hard. Balancing on a ball like a seal...balancing on my butt with my knees to my chest while doing bicep curls...swinging a sledgehammer at a tractor tire...all of these things are hard. None even come close to how difficult change is.
I have a mental collage of my past in my head. It's full of snapshots and soundbites of every geeky, dorky, asinine thing I've ever done. It's so full, I can't really see myself. All I see is a mash-up of my past failures and regrets. All I see is a mess, and since that's the only picture I have, it's how I've always defined myself and how I've assumed the world has defined me, as well. But this doesn't jibe with what I'm doing now. I need a new collage, but more than that, I need to get rid of the old one.
I need to let go. I need to leave my concept of who I was behind me and figure out who I want to be.
But change hurts. As unhappy as I've been for such a long time, I've grown accustom to that way of life. No challenges = no let downs. No expectations = no disappointments, and no contact with the outside world guarantees that I'll never get hurt or be embarrassed again.
Jacob tells me there's no crying in weight lifting. I'm not sure why he keeps saying this since he usually says it when I'm crying during training. For the past couple of months, I've been trying to figure out where these tears are coming from. It happens every time I find myself completely fatigued, just before pushing through the exhaustion to keep going. I get to the point where I'm physically spent and right then, the tears come. It's not that I want to stop. In part, it's fear of failure, but that's still not quite accurate. I think it's about change.
I'm scared a lot of the time. What if I do all this - killing myself at the gym - and it doesn't work? Scarier still, what if it does? Everything about me and my life will be different. I'm like a big lump of clay in the process of being sculpted. No wonder it's painful. I'm doing things that aren't easy, both physically and personally. Right now, I don't really have a vision of me. All I'm doing is my best to follow the plan my trainer has for me, and let go of the past. I trust him. I have since the beginning.
Maybe it's okay that I don't know or can't see exactly what I want. As long as I keep moving forward, something's bound to happen and regardless of what it is, it'll be better than what's happened before. So I'll keep going. 'Till the roof comes off...'till the lights go out...'till my legs give out...
.....and even after that.
That's kind of what it felt like, and today it definitely feels like that's what happened. It hurts walking up and down the stairs. It hurts to move my head. It hurts to type. So what am I doing today? Zumba. Who IS this person?
What happened to spending the day resting between meals? When did I trade in my bathrobe for workout clothes? When did I start taking pride in how much of my tee shirt I can soak with sweat in an hour? (by the way, it's a LOT.) The times they are a changin', and it's not easy. Not by a long shot.
Swinging 25 lb. kettle bells around in the air is hard. Pulling my trainer up and down the length of the gym is hard. Balancing on a ball like a seal...balancing on my butt with my knees to my chest while doing bicep curls...swinging a sledgehammer at a tractor tire...all of these things are hard. None even come close to how difficult change is.
I have a mental collage of my past in my head. It's full of snapshots and soundbites of every geeky, dorky, asinine thing I've ever done. It's so full, I can't really see myself. All I see is a mash-up of my past failures and regrets. All I see is a mess, and since that's the only picture I have, it's how I've always defined myself and how I've assumed the world has defined me, as well. But this doesn't jibe with what I'm doing now. I need a new collage, but more than that, I need to get rid of the old one.
I need to let go. I need to leave my concept of who I was behind me and figure out who I want to be.
But change hurts. As unhappy as I've been for such a long time, I've grown accustom to that way of life. No challenges = no let downs. No expectations = no disappointments, and no contact with the outside world guarantees that I'll never get hurt or be embarrassed again.
Jacob tells me there's no crying in weight lifting. I'm not sure why he keeps saying this since he usually says it when I'm crying during training. For the past couple of months, I've been trying to figure out where these tears are coming from. It happens every time I find myself completely fatigued, just before pushing through the exhaustion to keep going. I get to the point where I'm physically spent and right then, the tears come. It's not that I want to stop. In part, it's fear of failure, but that's still not quite accurate. I think it's about change.
I'm scared a lot of the time. What if I do all this - killing myself at the gym - and it doesn't work? Scarier still, what if it does? Everything about me and my life will be different. I'm like a big lump of clay in the process of being sculpted. No wonder it's painful. I'm doing things that aren't easy, both physically and personally. Right now, I don't really have a vision of me. All I'm doing is my best to follow the plan my trainer has for me, and let go of the past. I trust him. I have since the beginning.
Maybe it's okay that I don't know or can't see exactly what I want. As long as I keep moving forward, something's bound to happen and regardless of what it is, it'll be better than what's happened before. So I'll keep going. 'Till the roof comes off...'till the lights go out...'till my legs give out...
.....and even after that.
