It's January and 'tis the season for all of those physical fitness resolutions! I experienced a relatively mature New Year's Eve (see: not hungover on New Year's Day) and I remember thinking: My goals for 2012 = goals for 2011. I didn't know whether to feel confident in a continued mission or super sad knowing I hadn't gotten all THAT far into my 2011 goals.Hmph. I felt conflicted.
So, a few days later, I tried to think about everything I DID accomplish in 2011 as it relates to my fitness goals: I consulted with and started working with a trainer (check!); I began watching for bad patterns in my diet (check!); I ran two 4-mile races and didn't die (check!); and I've stayed pretty committed to buying healthy foods for my home (check!). While thinking of these little victories, I got to feeling a bit cocky.
I added: seeing muscle definition and getting stronger (check!)
And then...
I went to the gym this week to work with a trainer I see once a week for help with my weight loss goals. I have a standing appointment with her as well as work with some other professionals on getting this goal of mine accomplished. Her workouts are tough, but to be fair, I'm paying her kick my ass.
And she did this week.
My confident, happy, "We're really doin' it, Har," balloon - POPPED.
(SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS)
When I went to my appointment, I confess I was feeling a little vulnerable anyway given a nasty cold bug and new, tougher stress at work, but the gym (despite its ass-kicking qualities) usually makes me feel good. This time, I experienced what I call "My MTV True Life nancy-ass kid break down moment."
Seriously.
Mind you, I'm a grown-ass woman. Not a kid.
The first "blow" to my ego was the weigh-in and measurement-taking. Thinking my work (see: only 3 days a week and only a few months into a program) was going to show in inches, I was horrified and truthfully, really really embarrassed to find my weight went up and that my inches were either bigger or the same depending on the appendage. I stood there in my tight gym clothes listening to the trainer tell me it may be my clothes or holidays and thinking: "No, I've just been sucking at this for the past two months." I did a mental check and noted that my clothes would have helped - they couldn't be any tighter - and promised myself to do better.
I bit my lip and went to the gym to work out.
Big girls don't cry AT the gym.
Right?!
Anyway...during the workout, my cold, my now-wavering emotional stronghold, and my overall dismay with my initial results began to buck against my body's willingness to cooperate. I was sweating profusely (and of course noting that no one else seemed to be hot mess like me) and coming to a staggering realization during a particular exercise "Damn, my body is heavy." As in, I can't lift myself. Not Heavy as in "I think I'm Fat," Heavy in the literal sense. I started doing some mental math and began generally inwardly abusing myself.
I think at one point, my brain said "Dana, I hate you."
I know, very very middle school dramatic.
Very unhealthy.
I was shocked by my own power to put myself down.
Truly.
I confess, during the work out, I cried a little.
I tried to hide it as sweat.
I'm not sure it worked. My trainer was kind and didn't say anything.
Afterward, I went to my car, got in, and cried like a sissy girl child for five minutes and then cough-cried during my drive home. I can't say that I'm proud of it.
I made all kinds of promises to myself and I made all kinds of commitments in my head before pulling myself back together. (I even called myself a few names.)
I know, I'm super mean. To myself.
The next day, I woke up thinking: Wow, that whole episode was ridiculous. Not only is it unhealthy to emotionally berate yourself during a workout, but it's worse to condone that kind of thinking - even if it's private and even if no one hears it.
Insane. That's the word I used.
:-)
Becoming fitter and healthier and an overall great human being is to nurture not just the physical, but the emotional too. I needed to reset, regroup, and refocus on a) why I was doing this and b) how I could improve and c) while not letting disappointment send me into a shit spiral. Those spirals are what can send a girl right for the gallon of ice cream anyway, right?
Right.
And so, I've made this week (not January 1) my point of reassessing and focusing further on my fitness goals. So far, so good. Nothing in the big goal picture has changed, but my approach has. I'm not going to hate myself for what I can't quite do now, I'm going to celebrate what I am doing and that I haven't given up.
I'm wearing a bikini this summer. Mark my words.
:-)
Why am I posting this? Sure, it is uncomfortable and it certainly makes me a bit vulnerable to criticism, but I think many of us have been here. Becoming healthier is not just about looking great, it's about feeling great too - about loving yourself - so you can move forward and make progress.
In other news, I read an article that states that a Size 6 is now considered plus-sized.
Get the F outta here!?
I don't believe it.
Happy New Year.
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