Jacket that I couldn’t close last year, closed this year with room to dance!
This journey is defiantly not easy at times. I have given up, started over, fallen down, gotten back up, turned left, turned right…pretty much been all over the map. Attempting to undo unhealthy habits that have been, what feels like, written into my DNA, is not easy, while at the same time creating healthy ones. Today I got a little reminder.
I had a session with Emilia and there she was, measuring tape in hand and it didn’t matter how much I pouted, we were taking measurements. I realized that although they are just “numbers” I have my success or failure in this journey tied to those numbers (unhealthy habit), I also am dealing with a new level of shame I feel around those number, but that is a different post altogether. Out came the measuring tape and I am happy to report that since I began this journey…
Shoulder: – 2 inches, Chest: -0.5 inches, Right Arm: -4 inches, Waist: -5 inches, Hips: 0 inches, Right Thigh: -2 inches, Right Calf: -0.5 inches
At first I judged those numbers because I have been on this journey for a tad over a year now and I had this vision of what my numbers would be and those aren’t it. But just like Rome wasn’t built in a day, my healthy body won’t be. This is my journey and those are my loses and I am proud of them! I have no intention of finding those disappearing inches ever again. It’s hard and I wanna give up at times, but I refuse to let myself.
One of my favorite quotes I pulled from the Internet.
P.S – It’s clear my chest and hips are stalling on joining the shrinking party about as much as I stall when I get told I have to do burpees.
“I live my life a quarter mile at a time”….ahhh Vin Diesel I love you right now.
It’s hard sometimes being on this journey. Lately a lot of people have been telling me I look amazing, slimming down but every time I step on the scale the number is reflecting a different story. I have to keep reminding myself that muscle weighs more than fat and that the changes I am making are not about the numbers, they are about the difference in me and my life.
My chiropractor can’t believe the difference from when I first started seeing her to know. She is mainly a sport therapist but took me on out of a desperate state I was in almost 2 years ago. She said she had a difficult time finding the muscles before and now there is no problem. Muscles are stronger, bigger and she says I have “athlete problems”. I’M SORRY!?!?!? Athlete problems…took me a minute to digest this comment. The discomfort and issues I see her for are the exact same ones she treats on some of her fittest professional athlete clients. I see her for relief from pain in working out, I no longer see her for relief from pain in daily functioning.
Taren and Emilia, my trainers, bless them. They have this way of tell you exactly what you need to hear, right when you DON’T want to hear it, but it is what you need to hear. The other day I was told that I was going to run a quarter mile. I looked at Emilia laughed and said, yeah right. She wasn’t having any part of it and away we went. Away went the little voice in my head, as the breathing got harder and the legs started to hurt, and not long after came Emilia’s voice with the words of encouragement and the reminder to breathe. I DID IT! Then, 3 days later we were training outdoors in the sun and a track I haven’t been able to lap, running…I lapped it 3 times without stopping. I was walking home after and I got a little teary eyed, cause I freakin did it! I ran a quarter mile and I ran that track 3 times! Now every time I pout or complain about sore muscles Emilia smiles and says “Athlete problems.”
I made this track my b*!ch!
I know I am not doing this journey perfectly, or the right way, but I am doing it on my terms and if “athlete problems” are part of this journey well then let’s go. What is a number anyways.
Yesterday I was served with a beautiful reminder…
When I am working out with my trainer, we are in a gym that is strictly for trainers who are training clients. For a few months now, every Monday I get to admire a we like to call Superman. I know his real name, but another female trainer told me they refer to him as Superman, which seemed far more fitting. Now, when Superman arrives there is an extra pep in my step, my form is normally spot on and I push myself a little bit harder than normal, let’s face it Superman is around. Why do we call him Superman? Well, he is a tall terribly handsome Italian gentleman, who looks exactly like Clark Kent, but when we watch him train, you know he is training because secretly in the night he puts on those tights and red cape, taking off those dark framed glasses and he saves the world.
Now, I have come to learn that Superman is in fact married, with 3 children. No worries, because every girl loves window shopping even though there is no intent to be Lois Lane. I had this picture in my mind of who/what his wife would look like and today I got to see her. Turns out she trains at the same time as him sometimes. I was expecting to see this image I had in my head of someone I thought Superman would pick and I was wrong. Superman’s wife is a stunningly beautiful plus size woman. Between sets they stole kisses and Superman has in fact found his Lois Lane.
I was reminded that beauty is not found in a type, style or assumption of who you think you should be or what you think you should look like. Beauty is found inside and it glows out. Every guy is Superman and he is just looking for his Lois Lane that radiates her super powers from the inside out.