I’ve had some setbacks in the name of health…. mostly my kids….. mostly strep throat. We have all been sick for about three weeks, and I though we were in the clear when another case of strep reared it’s ugly throat. All together I missed a week at the gym.
I. Was. Terrified. Terrified that I would have a hard time getting back into it. Terrified that now that I’ve missed some, I wouldn’t be so strict with myself about going every day. I took pride in my “no stopping me from going” attitude. I didn’t want my momentum to slow. I was also terrified of starting over with squats. Let’s be real, that pain was intense, I cried when I had to pee bc getting up and down from the toilet was awful.
I didn’t. I was able to get back into my routine and not miss a step, and for that I am grateful. It’s just a part of me now. I go to the gym… it’s what I do. That being said, I don’t sit back and take that for granted. I make that effort and that choice every day. I take my progress little by little, because it adds up. I claw my way through and see a little muscle definition and I take that win. I have never worked so hard for anything in my life. I get it now, I get why people work this hard at the gym.
It’s not a place for thinking, just doing. If I think about my workout, about all of it as a whole, I’ll think I can’t do it. If I just do it, taking each exercise one at a time all I think is “next set, 1,2,3,4…… gosh this is getting heavy, keep going, only a little more, you got this!” When it’s all said and done, and I’ve worked to exhaustion, I walk out the door, tired and feeling accomplished. I worked for something hard, and I did it. I did what I didn’t think I could do. Then I get in my car, drive a mile down the road and think, maybe I should have lifted more. I can’t wait to go back and do it again! That’s that stupid endorphin high lying to me.
So I take the progress I get when I see it. Filling up water one day I noticed a muscle in my arm that I hadn’t had before. The light was coming in just right so I could see it. I checked my other arm and didn’t see it, then quickly looked back to make sure it was still there and not a lighting trick or my imagination. I’m seeing parts of my body move up and defy the gravity that’s been tugging on it for years. Namely my butt. I’m also starting to like myself again. Let me say that again: I’m starting to like myself again. I’m not disgusted by my reflection, but in awe of its changing shape. I’m not angry when my body is too tired or in too much pain halfway through the day, but proud of what I did when I was feeling good enough to do it! My bubbly, outgoing personality is starting to creep back up and fight the cynical smartass that has been my self defense for the last two decades. I’ll take it! I’ll take all of it!
Here is what I look like now, there is still a long way to go, but everyone was right, at three months, I’m starting to see a change!
(Yes, those are cupping marks on my back, and yes it works wonders, I’m the only one who hasn’t been on antibiotics yet, and I’m usually the one who gets the most sick.)