What are you out to prove?

I was recently asked a question that surprised me. It surprised me because it brought something out that I hadn’t really thought of. It also pissed me off because of the rude delivery, but hey, I got something out of it. A blog post. So touché’.

It was unexpected because I hadn’t asked myself the question:

“What are you out to prove anyway?”

The question was preceded by “How much weight have you lost on this ‘program’?” When I responded with what I’ve lost (40 some odd pounds thank you very much), the bounce back question was:

“So was that your goal? Why would you want to lose any more?”

Bitch please.

First off, where I’m at, isn’t my goal. Ironically, I haven’t set one. I’ll post on that next week.

Secondly, someone ELSE’s idea of what I should be satisfied with has no influence whatsoever on where I’m going or how much farther I will go.

Being over the one sided conversation and glaring that I was getting at that point, I just responded that I was still working on what I wanted to work towards and I wasn’t sure how much farther I’d go. With a ‘You’re crazy’, she turned and left. But she left me with a great question.

What AM I out to prove?

So much. More then I realized. My end answer is, ‘What ISNT there to prove?’

I’m proving to myself that I can succeed in something that I consider harder then anything I’ve ever done.

Consistency. I’m proving to myself that I can overcome the patterns that I know exist in myself. Boredom, the sixty day sack (two months always seems to be the tell for me in regards to whether I’m sticking to something or if I’m over it). Creating a life altering pattern instead of just running with a trend.

Kicking excuses. Now, I’m not a big excuse person, but, I am human. I have moments when I’m tired, not feeling it, have other options/choices, and those things bring me internal struggle just like everyone else. So I work to prove to myself that I can continue to overcome those things.

My body. I’m out to prove so much when it comes to my body. That everyone who said “Well, that’s just how your body is”, was wrong. To myself, in the moments when I accepted that; that I was wrong. To prove that I have control over my shape, my health and my fitness levels. All of it.

There are so many other things, and really, aren’t we all, always trying to prove something? If not to others, to ourselves.

So what are you trying to prove?

Get your mind right/Validation

When I began this post, the title was ‘Get your mind right’. I also had another post started which I’d titled ‘Validation’. Through reading, writing and thinking about them, the two began to be so connected, that I made them one long blog. So, get in your jammies, pull up some ice water or a protein shake (Hell, grab a beer or a shot), and have yourself a read. This is gonna be a long one.

I’ve talked about the Big H (hormones), so now I can cover some of the mental side of things. It is after all, just as important as the physical side of it all. I won’t say that its more important at this time because things are pretty evenly split for me, but at times, many times for me personally, the mental will carry you farther than the physical.

I’m an emotional eater. Always have been. Sad, happy, mad, whatever. Time to eat! Partly because I love to cook and bake, and I’ve been told that I’m pretty good at it. And who doesn’t love to see people enjoy the fruits of your labor, regardless of what they are? I’m a little bit of an artist as well and get the same high when someone is happy with a drawing I’ve done or something I put together for them. Cooking though; food, its universal, its synonymous with family time, gathering, love.

Love.

One of the big aspects of my training program, is switching gears about food meaning ‘love’, being, ‘love’. I’m completely guilty of this and have talked to people about it since starting. It’s always been easy for me when I wanted to express love, gratitude or give a gift, to bake. Cook. Give a gift that I knew people would love.

What I’m realizing more and more, is that while people enjoy the gift, in a lot of ways, they appreciate the time more. The time you put into cooking that. Thinking of them. Baking that. Whatever ‘That’ is for you. You did it. You cared enough to take the time to do ‘That’ thing. And that thing doesn’t have to be food.

Because food isn’t love.

The time and effort you put into something, is.

I got something from showing love in this way, if even in only a mild form of validation.

Validation.

This goes deep, for everyone I feel. If you have it, you’ve been met on levels in life that are loving and good with a part of you that is whole because of that.

If you don’t have it, or have had very little of it, you seek it. You can say no, but if you look, and are honest, we all do. We may have on our tough exteriors and play it off like ‘I don’t need anyone’s approval’ or ‘I don’t care what other people think’, but on certain levels, we do. Some of us just know how to not show it.

You learn to do the internal happy dance of ‘Someone sees me’.

Now I’m not talking about the people we all know who LIVE for other people’s approval and hump legs like puppy dogs, making sure that every aspect of their life is as others think it should be. I’m talking soul affirming, as small as a head nod yes, that we’re doing a good job, and that our efforts have been taken note of. It feels good. It does something for you and feeds something deep inside.

Here’s a little story for you. Feel free to laugh, or make a sad face (Take another shot or sip of beer). I’m open to however it moves you, or, if it moves you at all. As a side note, this story is also food related, and as I wrote, I realized that it was just another thing that tied love, affection and validation to food for me.

My parents were never overly affectionate. Until I had my son, I was very much the same. Hard and enjoying my personal space sans hugs etc. I was also kind of an awkward kid. Tall (5’08” by 6th grade), big feet, crooked teeth (thank you braces at 25), intensely shy, red hair and lots of freckles. Red hair wasn’t popular back then in the way it is now and neither was being shy, so not a lot of kids gravitated towards me. Even though I was involved in sports and other things, they just didn’t.

I didn’t recognize it until I was older, but during elementary school, I craved affection, acceptance and validation. From time to time, my mom would buy the industrial sized bags of chips for my dad’s work lunches. Usually five or six at a time. When she did, I would sneak one to school, because during first recess, we were allowed to take our snacks outside with us. On the days I brought my big bag of chips, I would share.

With the whole class, haha.

For a one hour space of time; I was it.

Everyone liked me.
Princess of the playground.
Queen of the quad.

Once the bag was empty, I was the awkward red-head again, towering over these poor small children with their tiny feet.

As with many people, once I had a child, everything shifted. I made many changes, interpersonal relationships, the way I operated in my life, and the way I loved. I wanted my son to grow into a loving person and not be afraid of closeness, intimacy or any of that stuff. I didn’t want him looking to a bag of chips for love. Or any other food, object or substance for that matter.

Funny, but true, is it not? Luckily for me, he has turned into a very loving and caring young man.

My point in all of that is, that my connection with food equaling love started early. It also equaled validation for me in some ways. Right or wrong, that was what it was.

Now, I’m going to say something that you can believe, or not, but hear it, and consider it.

Since day one of the program I’m involved in now, I have only had one food craving (I’ll do a separate post on that, and that Kinders bacon macaroni and cheese, may never come into our house again). It came and went quickly and I was surprised but proud of myself at how I handled it and got through it so quickly.

It was pretty easy. It happened in my second week and was related to my daughter’s food. It wasn’t anything bad because everything in our house is organic and mostly unprocessed, but it was just something that’s not on my menu right now.

It actually gave me a physical reaction. My mouth began to water, my mind said ‘EAT THAT’. It smelled delicious. It looked delicious. I knew, that it was delicious. I’d had it before.

I didn’t even let it get close to my face.

I served it to my daughter and grabbed my plate as quickly as I could, and we ate together. And I was fine. More than fine. I was great. I was proud of myself, and I reveled in the moment.

Why didn’t I just take a bite? That’s what I’ve been asked by the two people I’ve told this story to. For several reasons.

The first was that I was too tired. I had just gotten home from a workout, and I was too damned tired. All I could think of was ‘I didn’t just throw it all out on the floor during that workout to puss out on one spoonful of food’. That one reason would have been good enough. However, you throw in having to put that spoonful of food on my log, feeling like I disappointed someone who’s putting SO much time and energy into me, and the disappointment I’d have had in my own weakness, and that completes it.

You can have an opinion on it, but it worked. A long thought written out, but all of that happened in about a 15 second period of time.

There. Gone. Over. Boom.

I won.

Let’s call that self validation for the purpose of this post. And back to that…..

Validation….

When you fight food demons, mental habits regarding food, function memory, all of that; there isn’t a lot of cheering at the times you say ‘No’.

No one pats you on the back and says ‘Hey, great job for only eating a portion of that when there are at least three portions on your Cheesecake Factory plate. Or, ‘Great job of eating your meal and saying ‘No thank you’ to the six layer cake because you recognize that you’re actually full’.

How often do you hear that?

I’m venturing not often.

Unless you’re in my house and then those kinds of praises fly often.

So, in general, there’s no validation in it. There’s no one recognizing that you are not only winning your struggle with your mind and body, but that you’re working hard to succeed. Say what you will, but this is important. When it all comes down to it, its you.

All on you.

But; long-term success, staying power, needs more. At least in the short-term, in the beginning. When you’re building new foundations.

It needs to not only be important to you, something inside us needs it to be important to someone else. Even if only so important that it’s a small recognition of effort. This, is something I didn’t realize I wanted and needed. It wasn’t the only thing, and it’s not something I need every day, but it certainly pulls everything together in making me feel validated in my decisions leading up to putting me where I’m at now.

I get that from my current trainer. This Validation thing. It’s not fawning over you, huge pats on the back; codling. It’s simple. Straight forward. And that goes for the good and the bad. When something is out-of-order or wrong, she lets you know. Clearly. It’s raw, it’s genuine, it’s loving.

Say what?

Loving?

This is working out bitch.

This is grunting, sweating, chest thumping, ego flexing type of shit.

Yes, it is, but, that’s what makes this all different. This trainer.

She’s all heart.

It’s something I say often when people ask me about her. When you see a picture of her, it can be intimidating. I never felt intimidated, but, until you get to know someone, you really never know what to expect.

Don’t get the picture in your head that she’s running around hugging everyone and dabbing our foreheads when we’re sweating too heavy. It’s quite the opposite. She’s the one who gives you an insanely difficult move, and, when you fall on your face because your balance isn’t there yet, looks right at you and says:

“You’ll get that eventually, but I’ll take it. Now do it again.”

It sounds simple, but really, it’s a part of the bigger picture. In other programs, or working out on your own; there’s a lot of no one giving a shit if you show up or not. After all, it is all on you. You’re there, for you. If you show up or don’t; it’s no skin off anyone’s ass.

Here’s the thing.

In my studio. In this new program.

SHE, is there for YOU. As much, sometimes more, then you are for yourself.

Call it what you want. It’s validating. Even if you don’t express it in any way, show it on your face, say it out loud; it’s altering, to be acknowledged and validated for your efforts.

It’s no ploy. It not a facade. It’s genuine. Heartfelt. She cares if you show up, and if you don’t, you will hear about it. It may not be the kind of acknowledgment you want, but you’ll get it. When you do show up, you’ll hear that too.

She also won’t let you say a bad word about yourself, or anyone else. Lose ten pounds, lose a quarter of a pound, it’s progress. It’s good. It’s positive. You, keep your head up. You, keep moving forward. You, keep working. Hard. That’s all she allows for. Period.

And she sees, everything. Hears just about everything. Sees a million things going on, and knows every moment that’s going on, what everyone’s doing, saying, lifting, breathing, all of it.

She acknowledges it.

Validates you.

So get yourself some of that Validation stuff. Wherever you need to get it. Through something that changes and improves your life, or makes you happy.

If it’s working out, get a trainer. An amazing trainer like mine.

Or get mine.

I’m willing to share.

One Month

I haven’t disappeared. I’ve just been working on a really long and in depth post. It’s turning into a bit of a Chupacabra to be exact. If you don’t know what that is, look it up, or click on the tag at the bottom of the post, it’s pretty nasty.

So I bring you an easy post. My one month update when I’m almost at my two month mark. How else am I supposed to keep you in suspense? And, some photos of my ‘wounds’. In one month, I’ve measured down 22 inches and almost 30 lbs. I’m proud, but there’s a long way to go, so I’ll stay on point, and work harder.

These are pics from a disagreement between myself an a 50lb kettle bell, first month aches and pains, post workout sweat showers, my one month comparison pic, a tube snapping me in the ass and then the face. No, there will be no ass picture, but yes, there was a bruise. I hope to have my long post to you before the end of the week.

What’s in a name?

I’ve gotten a surprisingly large number of inquiries about where I got the name for my blog.  Apparently no 80’s babies or Crossfitters are reading.

One of the great movies of ‘my time’ (my awesome, super cool, never replicated time), was Adventures in Babysitting.  Cheesy, funny, totally 80’s kind of kid filled movie. Lots of twists and turns and never knowing what might happen next. A lot like this path I’m on.  Check it out if you never have.

The tire flipping portion is a little more of a story.

I’ve been Crossfitting off and on for about three years now.  From the moment I started, the one thing I’ve looked forward to doing, is flipping that big ol’ tire.  In three years, I didn’t get to flip one stinkin’ tire.  

Not one.  

I’m not sure why this part of it all appealed to me so much, but it was the brass ring for me so to speak. I watched it happen around me. My wife got to flip it. The big ones, the smaller ones. The new ones, the old ratty ones. I’d have to listen to everyone’s glorious stories about flipping tires and popping achilles tendons and, regardless, how great that damned tire was.

I work weekends, so I’d miss all of the Team tire flipping. Lots of flipping going on, but none for me.

Fast forward to four weeks ago.  I was in the third week of my new program.  As you walk into the front door of my training studio, if you look to your left, there it is.  

The big ol’ tire.  

I’ve seen you tire.  

I noticed you right away.

Still unsure if it would ever by my turn to flip you. You know. Back and forth. Over and over.

Then it happened. I showed up, and you were outside. Flat on your side in all of your black, rubbery goodness.

I still wasn’t sure if I’d get to use you, but, mid workout, I got the word.

“Go flip that shit”

YES!!!!

And I did. For two rounds. I flipped that shit. It was heavy, and awesome. Everything I had built up in my mind.

So, desire fulfilled.

A total bonus in my workout, and complete satisfaction.

And there you have the ‘Tire Flipping’ part of the name of this blog.

So, go watch that great movie, and flip something big, round, black and made of rubber.

That’s shaped like a tire.

Chest Strap Day

When they say it’s the little things, they aren’t kidding. I had a wonderful and amazing thing happen recently with the piece of equipment I wear around my chest. I reached for another title to this short post, because really, anything a Lesbian posts with the word ‘Strap’ in it, is just asking for fodder.

To hell with it.

I had a workout two weeks ago where I had a problem.

In the first 20 minutes…………….. My chest strap came unhooked. I was thought that maybe it had just rotated to one side, or I had caught it wrong.

But no. After another five minutes or so, I had to re hook it again.

‘Wait a minute’ I thought, I had it perfectly centered that time…..

…..tucked under my bra. Check.

……hook on right. Check.

Then it hit me.

It’s too big. My chest strap for my heart rate monitor is too big.

TOO. BIG.

I tightened it a about two inches and went on to finish my workout.

This was three weeks into my program, so I was silently jazzed and doing four year old tap dance clicks in my head on the linoleum kitchen floor. The kind where you’re so excited by the noise your shoes are making, that your mom has to clean the black scuff marks off from you wearing anything BUT, your actual tap shoes.

I went home and marinated in it for a few minutes before I sent a text to my trainer. She loved it and as always, made me feel sane by letting me know that those are the kinds of texts that she loves to get.

So, with a smile on my face, I’ll keep adjusting that strap, and my clothes, my attitude, my life, and whatever else needs adjusting. I have some really great posts in draft right now, so stick around and keep reading. I might put out a photo post this week as well. Bumps, bruises and all of the awesome things that come with moving weight.

“What are you doing??”

The question I’ve heard most in just the last two weeks is, “So, what are you doing??”

I only have a few people with whom I freely talk to about the program. There are visible changes however, so people approach me. This doesn’t mean I don’t talk at all about it. I’ll talk anyone’s ear off who really seems to have an interest. I believe in it, so if you really want in, I’ll point you in the right direction.

90% of the questions come from people in my work environment. It’s a mix of civilian and law enforcement, and someone is always dieting. Doing the next cabbage/cayenne pepper/lemon/fruit water flush, or whatever kidney killing thing is popular at the moment. Very few times does any of it include actual nutrition training or nutrition/fitness regimens.

So that I’m not being judgey here, I’ll throw myself on the mat. I’ve never been one to do those kinds of programs, but I’m the person who has tried every workout DVD on the market. Once I started Crossfit, that stopped, but prior to that, name it. Shaun T Insanity, Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred, Yoga, Zumba, Hip-Hop this and that, etc etc. The list goes on. They are no longer part of our library, but I had a good stack for a while.

Back to the questions.

My standard answer is that I’m involved in an ‘intensive nutrition and fitness program’.

Accurate.

To the point.

Sometimes the response is that I’m doing a great job and to keep up ‘whatever it is’. Most of the time though, the response is:

“I’m interested, can you tell me how to get into it?”

I’m brutally honest about my responses to this question. As I said in one of my previous blogs, this process has to be completely revealing for it to be the life altering animal I want it to be. Including these kinds of things.

I know the people personally who are asking me. I’ve known them for going on seven years, or we’ve at least been in the same environment. My answer is the same to them or people I barely know. I send them to my trainer’s site to do the online application (See the link to the right of this blog. And here, just in case your too tired to look to your right, Aguirrefitness.com.

That’s never the end of it though, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. The questions flow.

“Will I get big?” (Like a mother fucker) (Seriously though, no, you’ll get lean)
“Do I have to drink a lot of water?” (Like a fish)
“What if I don’t want to lift weights?” (Lol)
“How much does it cost?” (What’s your current health costing you??)
“Is your trainer like Jillian Michael’s?” (No; she’s much better)
“Do you get yelled at?” (For sure)
“Can I still eat Mexican food?” (Um, what?)
“What do I have to give up?” (Your old way of living)
“Will I still have time to go out?” (This is a full time commitment)

Most of the time, in response to their questions, I say that it’s probably not for them. If they protest and want to know more then I can tell them from my end about the program, I refer them to the website to get a hold of my trainer and talk to her. One person has asked me how I knew it wasn’t for them. She wasn’t willing to commit to it 100%, to do every aspect of the program. She said that she didn’t want to ‘look a certain way’. So, not a good fit.

The easiest comment to respond to is one I get often as well.

“Oh, I can’t do that. No, I could never do that”.

That’s pretty much the end of that part of the conversation.

My trainer has a saying that goes “If you think you can, or you think you can’t, either way, you’re right”. It’s the truth, and a conversation ender.

“But that’s not a way to motivate people” you might think.

I’m pretty good at reading people. If you are too, then you can tell when someone knows they can’t, or might just be nervous about starting something new, or of change. Some people have their minds made up.

They can’t.
So they don’t.

Some people are just afraid. To those people, I tell them that when they’re truly ready for change, that they absolutely can. That it’s scary, but worth it, and, I get it. A lot of times I’ll send them to my blog, because I can only say so much about what I’m doing.

Some people’s reaction is disappointment.

No pill?
No drinks?
No 12 weeks to a quick fix?

No. Just a lot of hard work. Oh, and lots of KT tape, Tiger Balm, Asian herbal patches, Icy Hot, Epsom Salts baths, massage, etc. So if you’re into smelling eye openingly strong (I made that word up) and people knowing you’re there before they see you, then come on.

The reality though, and the answer to the question of ‘What are you doing? Is Work.

Hard, and satisfying, Work.

Hormones and diet and workouts, Oh my

I promised an explanation about the tears in my last post, so here goes.

If you’re looking for a post that is going to give you warm fuzzies and go to the place where tears are born, you may be disappointed, because this won’t be it. Or, maybe it will. I haven’t decided yet. In general, I’m not a crier. Not because I’m afraid to, or it makes me feel weak. On the contrary, I think that at times, crying is great. It’s an easy release, can make you feel lighter, and it’s an honest part of life. I don’t cry much because in general, I’m a pretty happy person. If I’m crying, it’s usually because I’m laughing so hard.

Or, driving away from a workout.

Seriously?

I’ve heard a lot, and I’m sure you have too, about hormones. At 42 years old, I hear more about them every year. Getting ready for the big M. For you guys, just in case, that means Menopause. I’m not going through that part of life yet, but it seems like once you hit 40, everyone’s talking about it.

Well, I have learned, and very quickly, over the last month, that hormones RULE MY LIFE. In a way that I could never have imagined. A previous female coach I had talked a lot about hormones, but I always thought that if I ate right and continued to work out, I would be ok. Turns out, it’s a precarious balancing act. Precarious might be too strong a word. No, no it’s not. It’s precarious in the beginning. That’s how it felt, so we’ll leave it at precarious. Once things start to balance out, we’ll call it a new word. Something more gentle so I don’t frighten the 30 somethings coming up on this amazing time in life. I mean that in both of the ways that you probably read it.

Where are the tears you’re asking? All over my car. All over my sweat and tear soaked t-shirts. My shoes. All of it. For the first two weeks of my new program, it was the same. Every day. I would go in and work out. When done, I would go to my car, turn it on, begin to drive away, and the tears would start to flow.

I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t mad. The only thing I was, was wet, tired and sore. But there they were. Damned things. Rolling down my face screaming things at me that I couldn’t hear until I listened. After about a week of this, I had to message my trainer. I felt like I needed some validation that I wasn’t cracking up. I messaged her, a little hesitantly, wondering if, the next time I was dangling from the TRX, she’d clamp me down and phone my family.

She responded almost immediately with “It’s totally normal”.

Not only was it normal, but that she has had more than one client who cried EVERY DAY for the first month, and then at least once a week for the next couple of months….and that it was normal, and ok.

That made me cry. What the hell???

She went on to explain a little more of what my body was going through doing the type of training I was doing, including all of the changes that were going on in my diet, my mind etc. Hormones. Mine had been all over the map for years and I had no idea. Well, I had an idea, but I just didn’t think that I was (as everyone is) so overtly affected by them. This outpouring was my body’s way of responding to the balancing and shifting of hormones and the overall effects of what I’ll call healing. I really feel that even with the constant ‘ouch’ and ‘oh lord, this?!’, that my body is in the process of healing. In so many ways.

It would be extraordinarily dishonest of me at this point to say that biochemistry, hormones etc, were the only source of my tears. They are all contributing factors, but there are many emotional, mind-set issues that went into them as well. Healing body. Healing mind. More about those the next time I write.

There’s a first time for everything

Smile on my face and tears in my eyes

I’m a Marine. One of the non negotiables in Marine Corps boot camp was the use of the word ‘Can’t’. There were severe penalties not only to yourself, but your fellow recruits. It’s a good rule in life. I like it. We use it in our home to this day. There is no ‘Can’t’. Only, I will try. I will do my best. So on and so forth. ‘Can’t’ is not a word or a state of mind that I subscribe to, but I probably came the closest I’ve ever been in my life to saying it during my consultation and evaluation workout.

Sounds so serious you might say. It was. To me. I’ve done a lot of hard things in my life. I don’t say that as a boast, I say it as a fact. A point of reference for everything I’m about to write. I went into this looking for change, but had no idea how much I was about to find, and how quickly it would start happening.

My consultation was on a Monday night. The process was fast and smooth. My trainer handles things like a well oiled machine, assigning weight amounts, movements and motivation. No notebooks, no workout logs or books. Just you, your equipment and her direction.

When asked what the heaviest kettle bell I’d ever used was, I responded with “About 25lbs”. Not having used them a lot, I was floored when I was met with “Go get a 50lb kettle bell”. I grabbed my kettle bell, other equipment and set up.

The room is hot. Hot from the heat. Hot from people working out. Really hot. If you know me, at all, and even if you don’t, know this. I. Hate. The heat. I grew up in 120 plus degree heat and would be thrilled to be knee-deep in snow on a daily basis. But enough of that…..

There is no easing in. There is no warm-up. Well, correction. When you get to the studio, you can jump rope, elliptical, treadmill, whatever you choose until you begin to get assigned equipment to start. You definitely want to warm up. Once things start, you’re off like a starving man chasing a Dachshund with a bun. The moves, the lifting, the pushing, the pulling. Everything is fast. And hard. Take that in any manner you wish, you dirty birds.

There is no water until you complete the reps assigned in a movement. It IS, a motivating factor. There isn’t a lot of stopping except for moments you’d like to breathe, dry sweat from your eyes or the floor, or the weights. For someone like myself, with absolutely zero cardio strength, this was challenging.

I was told that as long as you’re being honest and completing your reps, to do them and not to worry. So I was slow, but I kept moving. At least it felt like it. What I actually looked like, I couldn’t say.

Maybe just add that everyone is working at their own levels but everyone is working hard

Now, there came a moment. I’m not sure when it was, but I’m guessing halfway through the workout. The moment where I couldn’t tell you a damned thing. I don’t mean that I was so winded that I couldn’t speak, although that would be accurate; I mean, I don’t remember the middle of my workout. I obviously didn’t black out. I was still standing. I was still moving. But I could not for the life of me, tell you what I did, what was going on. Nothing.

This is new. Very new. Not a lot of things surprise me, but, as they say, there’s a first for everything. My mind began to come back to me about 3/4’s of the way through the workout. This is where everything in me, in my body, in my mind, in my soul, started to shift. I know that this sounds deep and intense, but it doesn’t even begin to touch on the things that were going on in my mind.

At about that point, I was in the room opposite of where I started. I was doing what many of you are probably familiar with; Bear Crawls. Forward and backward Bear Crawls. I had to Bear Crawl to a wall and back a couple of times. During the second Bear Crawl, I got to the wall, and had an experience that has never happened to me. Ever. I stayed in Bear Crawl position, and slowly leaned my forehead up against the wall.

I’m sure that I was probably on there for 20 seconds or so, but it felt like a full minute or two. As sweat dripped off of my forehead, and I noticed that my arms all the way down to my hands were actually sweating, I had a string of thoughts run through my mind. Here, is exactly what the thought was:

“You don’t have to do this. This is completely voluntary. You don’t even have to finish this workout. You can stand up. Walk out the door. And never come back.”

This may not seem like a big deal to anyone reading this, but to anyone who knows me, you’ll know why it was. When I later shared it with my wife, she was surprised. I have a certain view of myself. I wouldn’t call it conceited. Not by a long shot. I am however, confident. I like who I am on the whole, and I know that I’m a hard worker. I have also always considered myself a strong person. Emotionally and physically. Even when over weight, I was always able to move a decent amount of weight.

At that moment, I didn’t feel like I could lift a piece of sand. Emotionally. Physically. In any way. I wondered for a moment “Who the fuck are you?!” I had zero cardio, what felt like zero strength, and my emotions were all over the map. This was ‘just a workout’, right? Why was I spinning in five different directions? I didn’t know, and that moment was not the moment to figure it out.

I snapped out of it and told myself to move. So I turned around and finished my Bear Crawls and whatever else the rest of the workout was. When it was over. I thanked God, Buddha and every other entity that I could think of. I was drenched in sweat, which was another new thing for me. It’s not that I haven’t worked hard in other things I’ve done. I sweat. But I’ve never looked like I just stepped out of a water balloon fight.

I was then talked to by my trainer, was advised of what my rate would be if I decided to train there, and that I had a certain amount of time to sign my six month contract.

I wanted to cry.

Instead, I paid, signed my contract and said I’d be back in a day.

I cried on the way home. The tears are another post.