I know, I know. This is ridiculous. I have SERIOUS body image issues. Like really bad. It's horrible. No matter how fit I am, how cleanly I eat, or how structured my day is, I always feel like I should be doing a little bit better. Writing this makes me feel like a total idiot, by the way. Hopefully it will be something I can look back on and will have learned a lesson, or taken strides to improve this flaw.
The last 6 years or so have been really great for me as far as fitness is concerned. Right after Zoë was born, I joined a gym, went almost every day, and made some great progress. After a while, I felt like I was just going every day and kind of at a stand-still. Did I need to "lose weight"? Absolutely not. Did I feel the need to work harder and improve? Most definitely! Every. Single. Day. this was one of the foremost thoughts in my head.
Fast forward 6 years, and here I am. Pretty fit (in clothes), pretty good eating habits (during the week), and a ton of motivation to get better. The thing that was lacking was the instructions to actually put these things together and see some results. I spend way too much of my "free" time looking at lovely bodies of athletes, reading their blogs, planning to follow their meal plans (with Isagenix incorporated), and commit. Until now, it's been a whole lot of pinning, reading, and wishing...not so much of the actual doing. I was in the gym every day, but not the way I needed to be to get the results I was looking for.
After watching the progress of a friend of mine (a former cheerleader I coached, and distant cousin, strangely enough), I decided to get in contact with her and see what she thought about training me. The thing that TOTALLY stinks about the whole situation is that she's employed by a gym, so I am paying big money, and she probably isn't getting nearly as much as she deserves. I am sure it will all work out in the end, though. So, on Monday, I went into the gym (not the one I prefer, but I'll get over it) and signed my life away, so to speak. I had to text Kevin and apologize for dropping so much money on the whole deal, but it was what I really needed to do, and he doesn't care anyway.
When the papers were signed (like it's a big legal matter), she gave me a meal plan to follow and our workouts started today. The food is the easy part. I am the least foodie person alive. I could eat chicken and green veggies for every meal without hesitation. While I am still incorporating my shakes, I have been following the meal plan perfectly. This is where I start to feel really dumb because I totally know all of this stuff, I just can't seem to wrap my brain around it until it's written out for me and I have someone outside of my personal life to keep me grounded.
With every easy part, there is a hard part, I assume. That was where I stood (or wobbled, rather) this afternoon. Like I said before, I consider myself to be pretty coordinated, flexible, able to follow directions, and all around capable of doing pretty much ay physical activity, to a certain extent. Today was the exception. I felt like an IDIOT! The actual exercises were nothing new to me; completely doable and really not that much different from what I'm used to. Then something happened. About 7 minutes in, I started to feel shaky, my legs were really tight, and I knew it was going to be something different than I have ever experienced before.
Did I do it? Of course. I pushed through, gritted my teeth, and envisioned my ultimate goals, as I was feeling like I could not kick my legs up even one last time. I am trying to think of a good reason for this post. It's really just a big sneeze of all of my thoughts and feelings from the day. What I learned: it doesn't matter how fit you are, you can always do more. Sometimes you need someone to push you to your limits. It's okay to struggle and not be the best at what you're doing (still working on this one). Lastly, I am going to be sore tomorrow.
Hopefully this will be a great investment in myself, enabling me to be a better person. I need to stop being so critical of myself. Currently, and through my entire life thus far, it has been a tragic flaw. Let's hope I can change it a bit so it doesn't lead to my demise. That wouldn't be good at all. It's 8:20 and I can hardly keep my eyes open. If I can figure out how to post "before" pictures without my face, and without the possibility that a student my stumble upon my blog at some point, I might consider doing it. Probably not. But maybe. My sweet Tempur-Pedic is calling my name. These girls need to go to sleep. This is the lamest post of all time, but I might like it in a year or ten. Ahhh, sleep!