Struggles

Maybe I'm just a whiner. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm just a normal human being who wants what she wants NOW, not later.

For two weeks now I've been struggling. Struggling to the point that I have missed two workouts. Yes, you read that right: I have skipped two workouts. I could claim I was tired, I could tell you I was giving my body a chance to recover from Tough Mudder. I could sugarcoat my absences any way I wanted, not to brag, but I am pretty good with words when I want to be. Maybe I could even make myself believe the excuses.

I'm not making excuses for myself, it won't help and I owe it to my trainer and to myself to be as honest as possible.He asked only one thing of me when he took over from my previous trainer: he asked me that I always be honest with him. If I wasn't happy with the changes he could deal with that, he just wanted me to be honest with him. Okay, I respect you Tyler, and I will be honest with you, with myself and with anyone reading this: I have missed those two workouts because I CHOSE to be lazy. I chose to roll over, look at the alarm and shut it off. Yesterday morning, I chose to let it start ringing, shut it off and snuggle Abbey. My body was ready to go, I was uncomfortable all day long because I changed my routine.

As is so often my problem, my mind got in the way. As hard as I try, there is still a mean girl whispering in my ear. She delights in pointing out all the ways I fail. It is her pleasure to sit on my shoulder when I look in the mirror and tell me I am still fat, I will always be fat and no amount of exercise is ever going to change how ugly I am. Since I've pretty much accepted that I won't ever see what other people see when they look at me, she's had to change her tactics. Attacking my looks isn't getting her anywhere, so now she's going after my fitness.

I gave that nasty little voice plenty of fodder at Tough Mudder. I noticed that I was the slowest one on the team. Big freaking deal: so I wasn't charging up the mountain: I got up the mountain and back down and up again. It wasn't a race for time, I knew that going in, but my speed or lack thereof bothers me so it makes a handy target for my perfectionist streak. Then there is my strength.

I am proud of my strength. I have reason to be proud. A 550 pound tractor tire deadlift, a 345 pound hex bar deadlift and a 325 pound barbell deadlift are things to be proud of, even I know that. The morning after Mudder I could not pull the sleeper sofa out to take off the sheets. If my friend Eric hadn't been there to make a joke of it and help me out I am pretty sure I would have had a tantrum, dissolved into a pile of tears and embarrassed the hell out of myself. We'll completely gloss over the meltdown after Skidmarked and the 10 minutes I spent alone on the balcony after we got back to the condo Saturday afternoon. Yeah, we'll forget about those. Even more for my mind to throw back in my face at every opportunity.

And let's talk about my headstands. On second thought, let's not. I can get my feet off the floor finally, but getting those legs up in the air is going to take a freaking crane, possibly an act of God. At the very least it's going to take one trainer a lot of time and talking to get me to attempt it.

So I've skipped two workouts, does that mean I throw in the towel, wave the white flag and walk away? In the past that is absolutely what it would mean. "I've missed two workouts, I've blown it, screw it". I would have justified walking away by saying I was only wasting Tyler's time, that without me around he'd have time to train someone else who deserved it more. I would have decided that my friends would still love me anyway. They definitely would still love me anyway, but deep down I know I wouldn't love myself.

It's not like I love myself a lot anyway. Sometimes I like me, but by and large I am not someone I would seek to spend time with. That's a horrible thing to say, isn't it? It feels horrible writing it, but there's that honesty thing again. I can't change it if I won't own it. I kind of like myself, but mostly I don't. There, I said it.

As much lip service as I've paid to knowing this is a process and a journey I'll be on for the rest of my life I didn't really believe that. I honestly thought this was a trip with an ending point, not a journey with more obstacles, twists and turns than I could have dreamed.

My next step is going to be silencing that nasty voice yet again. My inner "mean girl" needs to meet a hideous end. I know it won't keep her away forever, she'll creep back in the second I get lax about thinking about what I did well and trying to learn from what I didn't do well during a class or training session. When I forget I won't be the best at everything and that the goal is to make progress, not to be perfect that voice will be waiting to tell me what a waste of time this all is.

I have free will though and that means I can choose to listen or not. I get to decide if I am a waste of time that Pride Fitness Performance can do without, or if I really am inspiring to people for whatever reason. I don't pretend to understand how or why other people might see me as inspiring, but that's none of my business. My business is to do the best I can do to apply the coaching cues I get to become better, faster, stronger and hopefully more athletic.

There you have it...crazy little me in a nutshell. At the moment I'm going to end this post, go change and see if I can pull a double. Pride Fit class then buddy training. There's a chance I'll wind up a puddle on the floor, but I'll never know if I don't try and no one has told me not to try yet so I'll give it a whirl. I'll try anything once and maybe if I'm especially lucky there will be tire flips or something else I dearly love to do. A girl can always hope!

Thanks for reading.