I signed up for an expensive package of personal training sessions at my gym this week (you know, the one I almost never go to).
It was scary to type that. And truthfully, since I had my first training session this morning, it also hurt a little to type that because I can literally feel the typing all the way to my shoulders, which are so sore that I could barely lift my arms to wash my hair in the shower, post-work out.
I've been feeling shitty about my level of fitness for ages, but something possessed me earlier this week and I drove to the gym (repleet in gym clothes and Nikes) and instead of walking over to the elliptical machine like I had planned, I felt myself being pulled toward the personal trainer desk. I've eyed this desk for over a year, trying to gather the courage and motivation to talk to a trainer, but I'm always too worried that I'll quit after a few sessions and I convince myself it's not worth starting if I know I'm not up for finishing. But on Monday, I spoke with a trainer, talked about my goals, and paid for 8 weeks of sessions, three per week with my new trainer, Mike. And full disclosure, I then felt like I'd done enough for the day and drove home in my pristine gym clothes without working out. It was only 2 days until my first session, I needed to save my energy, right?!
Recent conversations with friends (and myself) have helped me lately to focus more on being happy with myself where I'm at, and not basing my self-esteem on the number on the scale or the size of my pants. It's actually working. I'm hearing more of the nice things that Jeff says to me/about me and I'm actually starting to believe that some of them are true. I see myself differently in the mirror even though physically, nothing has changed. I've hung on too long to this idea that there is an ideal weight for me and that I have to lose every pound I gained with my pregnancy in order to be happy with how I look. I don't hold anyone else in my life to this standard I keep for myself. It's unfair and I'm letting it go.
All that said, it doesn't feel good to spend every single night after Edie goes to bed laying on my couch, working on the laptop or watching TV, knowing that the most physical activity I got that day was walking the 2 blocks from my office to Trader Joe's to buy lunch. I was watching an old episode of Glee recently and as I laid on my couch while all these actors danced their hearts out on the television, I had the same feeling I get every time I watch a dance performance - a physical memory of what it felt like to have that kind of energy and throw myself around on a stage dancing. And every time I experience that, I crave it. I'd like to be flexible again, strong enough to leap across a dance floor and learn a routine.
Full disclosure (again, as always), I've also spent a fair amount of time lately, obsessing about taking a tropical vacation with Jeff for our 10 year wedding anniversary this coming June. I'm having imaginary debates with myself about the pros and cons of traveling to the Bahamas vs Bora Bora. Or maybe Tulum, Mexico! The options are limitless (until I start looking at prices, then limits creep back in). I want to go somewhere with turquoise water I can swim in and lots of places to stroll and read a book. And I'd like to wear a swimsuit and feel good prancing around in it. I could wear a swimsuit now and tell myself to feel good about it, and it might actually work. But when I picture myself there, I know that I'd like to do some work before I'm the me that I envision on this trip. I need to spend more time working on loving myself wherever I'm at, but for me, I think part of loving myself includes taking better care of myself physically. I deserve to be in better shape, to be stronger and more capable of doing more shit. You know, like touching my toes and other important things like that.
I told my trainer that weight loss is not my goal. The number on the scale is not as important as feeling stronger, more flexible, possibly sleeping better and getting less sore from simple physical activities. I want to turn 35 in March feeling like hot shit. And I think if my mental pep-talks and physical fitness level can meet in the middle, I can totally be hot shit. Right?
But all that positive thinking aside you guys: That workout was HARD. I almost fell down the stairs walking to my car in the garage after my work out. I had to hold onto the railing with BOTH HANDS to side step down the stairs like a drunk person and when someone passed me on their way up, I paused and acted like my phone was ringing in my purse and I HAD to dig it out. And! That's not all, because I have to return tomorrow for my next session! Right now, I'm still in the early stages of feeling motivated and excited about having a new project - ME! So I'll keep you posted as that excitement fades and I grow to hate Mike and his interval-training-ways. What I will not do, is keep you posted about weight loss stats as a result of this project - because I'm going to try and avoid the scale during this process.
Wish me luck?