My health and fitness journey started out on accident. I had tried to jump on the “I love my curves” bandwagon, until I realized- those are not curves. Those are fat rolls. You never see a woman screaming at the top of her lungs- “I love my fat rolls!!!!”- If you ever do see that, just walk away. quickly. They are obviously insane.
Now, this does not mean that I am advocating for women to hate their bodies. However, instead of focusing on what our bodies look like, and their flaws- many women who seem to have a healthy body image- love what their body allows them to DO! These women are my heroes right now. I am currently attempting to train for my Tough Mudder adventure that is happening in… 9 weeks!!!! Gulp. Nine. 9. Nine- one less than 10. Holy Crap on a cracker. What is wrong with me?
And, then… I remembered. I remembered why I wanted to do this in the first place. You see, I “met” all these groovy people on FB in a health club. It was a place where I could post my sweaty gross PWS (post workout selfies) and have people cheer. Yes, it sounds cheesy to want a group of people to cheer for you- but, when you have spent your entire life as an athletic mess, it’s fun to have a cheering squad. These people have encouraged me wholeheartedly. I need that. I tend to divide the world into compartments- there is FB world. Then, there is the Real World. People in the real world don’t want to hear that I lasted 3 whole minutes longer on the treadmill. My fitty buddies get it. They totally get the struggle of trying to drink enough water- How to find protein when you just don’t want to eat more meat… and think your protein powder tastes like sweaty ass. (Quest Bars… although I only like a couple of flavors)
We can discuss sports bras- the horror of being smothered by our breasts when we attempt a Handstand without the sports bra, shin splints, C25K, shoes, compression garments, and for some reason- Zumba. These were the first people who cheered me on when I was new to boxing. They would encourage me to go when I was actually shaking with fear. So, now we are gonna do a TM. WHY????
Well, let me be honest. For some reason- it is a little less scary to be doing this with a group of people who remember that not very long ago- I was excited to walk a mile. They know how much I used to weigh… and if they can do math- they know how much I still weigh. They have seen pics of me trying to find muscles… all in all… they know some of the most private and embarrassing parts of me. The ones I would never discuss with my work friends. And, Angela is going with me. Knowing she will be there is one of the main reasons I know I can do this.
You see, Tough Mudder is often touted as the hardest OCR around. However, if you do some reading- It is really not a race at all. It is all about facing your own personal fears- and reaching out and helping those around you attain their goals. THAT is why I want to do it. I know there are going to be obstacles that I just cannot do. I live in mortal fear of getting stuck in those damn tubes. (I am probably not even going to attempt those. My dreams were too vivid. My poor soul cannot imagine surviving that.)
So, once again- why? Why would a fat, scared girl want to go roll around in the mud with a bunch of fitty fools? They have given me hope. Hope that I can change. Hope that if I keep working- I can be better. Healthier. Stronger. I have never been an athlete. I want to be able to call myself one.
I do not trust people who say they are okay with being fat and unhealthy. It makes me nervous. There is a sense of complacency that surrounds that statement. Now, there was a time- when I was all eating disordered and tired. I did not ever imagine being able to be thin without spending half my life in a bathroom with my fingers stuck down my throat. So, in order to stop that behavior- I stopped weighing myself. I did not get healthy- I just stopped thinking about it. I told myself I did not want to go hike up that sand dune to see the living coral or whatever. That was a lie!!!! I did want to see it- I was just too scared of trying and failing once again.
I had to stop saying I want to be thin!!! Now, I believe that will most likely be a byproduct of eating well and exercising. I do not really have a goal weight. I have a desire to be active. I secretly want to become a runner. I want to earn medals for running a marathon. I want to make it through a boxing class without someone having to steadily encourage me to keep moving. I want to be able to take a dance class without everyone being afraid that I am going to die. I want to be able to go to hot yoga- and not be afraid that I look like a beached walrus.
You know, getting fitty for fat folk is a pride swallowing endeavor. It is frightening. I am embarrassed to really work hard- because I am afraid people are going to assume all my panting and sweating are a byproduct of my fat ass moving. I automatically assume that people are watching and judging me. (For the most part, this has not happened. I have had nothing but encouragement- except for one asshat that laughed at my TM goal.) There are some things I am pretty good at. There are lots of things that scare the crap out of me. I have one bad knee- and I live in constant fear of having to use crutches again. I started out wearing big baggy clothes to the gym. Then, I realized that compression gear- made working out so much more comfortable. So, now I wear form-fitting gear- and fuck em if they don’t like it.
I am fat. I am working pretty hard to change it. I have good weeks and bad weeks. I still struggle with the whole thing frequently. I get nervous when people point out that they can tell I am losing weight. The most important thing for me- is I am trying. I am trying to be healthy. I am trying to get stronger. You, see… I was wrong. I don’t want to be thin. I am never going to be 5’8 and a blonde bombshell. I am going to be me. I am pretty fucking fantastic. I am okay with that. And, when I earn my orange headband… I am going to celebrate it. So, with the help of both new and old friends- I totally got this.