Thursday, September 22, 2011

Boot Camp

I have a secret.

Since June, I have been going to boot camp. Inspired by none other than Miss Zoot herself, I decided that it was time for me to get back in shape.

Baby weight (also known as milkshakes while pregnant weight) hasn't come off after Colin like it did after Christopher. I'm older. I eat too much. Go figure.

The thing is, I didn't start working out in order to lose tons of weight and fit into a size 10 again. I'm fine with my padding and pudge. It was well earned, and I don't mind it usually.

I started working out because I want to be strong again.

Do you hear that, world? I want to be strong again.

I used to be strong. I used to be powerful and tenacious. Leaving the workforce was the right thing for me to do for my children, but it took away a lot of my gumption. That's what my granddaddy would have called it. My gumption.

I'm not ready to start working outside of the home again, but I am ready to start feeling like myself. Myself in this new version of me. Me 2.0.

So, boot camp. Easier than therapy.

I get up, try not to wake Colin (never works), throw on some clothes, and dash out the door to be there in time to start at 6:00. That's 6:00 AM. Except on Saturdays when it's 8:30.

It's hard. There is a lot of running at which I suck big monkey balls. I hate running. While I run, I can't shake the thoughts of, "If someone was chasing me, and I had to run from them, I would be dead."

There is a lot of strength training that I like alright. There is a lot of dragging weird things like tires and fire hoses about which I am ambivalent. There is a sense of accomplishment that I love.

If you see me, you probably won't notice a change. I haven't lost any weight. In fact, over the past month, I've gained a few pounds. I don't have the healthiest relationship with food. It comforts me. Rewards me like I'm a canine. And when I miss my Daddy the most, I really crave a donut.

I guess I still miss him a lot.

Regardless, I'm happier. I may not be fitting into any smaller clothes (yet), but I know I'm getting stronger. And that feels awesome.

I don't take having a healthy body for granted. It feels right to be taking care of it better. I owe myself and my family at least that.