All we are, we are

Let’s be honest for a second here.  I haven’t been in great shape physically since early high school.  Maybe even before.  I am not an athlete – never have been, never will be.  There isn’t a single competitive bone in my body, no desire to push myself to succeed over someone else.  Yes, I played basketball and joined the track team (and subsequently quit after 2 seasons) and attempted to fit in with all of my friends who were the definition of athletic.  Growing up, my best friend was one of the top cross-country runners in New England.  She was amazing – and thin, my god, she was thin.  But I was not born with a runner’s body or a swimmer’s body – I have always been curvy, never destined to squeeze into a size 2.  Hell, I don’t even think I’ll ever be a size 6.  I’d settle comfortably for a size 8.  At five feet, eight inches, I can’t expect to be tiny and petite.  And who cares, right?  I just want to be in shape.  That’s all I ever really wanted.  The weight loss and toned muscles were always secondary to wanting to feel good about my body. 

I’ve pushed myself mentally – far, much farther than I ever thought possible.  Mentally and emotionally, I have found strength beyond anything I ever knew I had.  My heart is one of the strongest parts of me – its beats are unrelenting, its ability to give love and withstand heartbreak are unbreakable.  I can rely on my heart, I know it well.  Even when it feels betrayed or cowers in pain, it is still mine.  Strong, steady, mine. 

But my body is a different story.  My body has never been reliable.  I get sick more than most people I know – I’ve had knee problems since high school, lower back pain since college and suffered from migraines for years.  Listen, I’m not complaining really – compared to the majority of the world’s population, I am very healthy.  But I’ve never pushed my body past the brink of where it always has been.  Never terribly overweight or out of shape, but never physically fit or in tip-top shape.  I’ve gone through bouts of doing really shitty things to it – drinking in excessive quantities, smoking, drugs, self-induced vomitting, self-inflicted cutting, etc, etc, etc.   It sounds worse than it really was, all listed out like that.  Splayed across the page like some tortured teen after school drama. 

The point is (there’s a point?  jesus) I have never trusted my body to do anything more than eat, sleep, walk….basic functions.  When I started doing yoga regularly a few months back (and by regularly, I mean almost every day), I started to hear something from within.  A call, an awakening, a need to move more, to trust that I could do it, if I really tried.  I pushed it away, away for weeks but I couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was time to try again. 

I’ve discussed my dislike for the gym before, so I knew that wasn’t the route I needed to take.  I signed up for kickboxing and off I went into an unknown land.  I was nervous, so so nervous, that I’d never be able to keep up with this high-intense, 50 minute work-out.  That I would feel stupid and I’d hate it and never go back and spend obscene amounts of money for the next 6 months paying for my mistake.  

Then I took my first real, full length class.  And I’ve never been one for epiphanies of any kind, but jesus.  Nevermind the encouragement and motivation from the instructor and the entire class of wonderful, nice, friendly people who I look forward to getting to know but I did it – all the way through – without stopping, once.  I did it.  I never stopped, never paused, never gave into the mental battle in my head telling me to cut it out and that I was indeed going to vomit on the floor of the studio.  And when I was finished, I looked around the room and all the smiling faces and then into the mirror.  Sweat covered, tomato faced, hair looking something akin to Dolores from Sister Act and the Lagoon Creature – and smiling from ear to ear.  Feeling more accomplished than I have in so, so long.

I’ve had few moments in my life where I felt like I had truly worked so hard and gotten to the other side successfully.  College graduation was one of them.  And this – this little, seemingly unimportant moment, standing barefoot on thinly rugged carpet in the middle of a mirror covered room – this was definitely another.