I am writing this post at 4:30am. Usually I’m up at this hour for one of two reasons (yes, there are two): 1) I have an early flight or very important meeting and I wake up every hour on the hour for fear that I will over sleep or 2) I’m a Manic Molly (some might argue that #2 could be the cause of #1, but that’s another post entirely).
Today’s 4am wake up is induced by different kind of crazy: BOOTCAMP. Normally I go to the evening class mostly because I’m one of those people who has to eat well before I can exercise so I don’t barf or pass out mid lunge, but I am going out of town this weekend and my only option is the morning session (hence sitting at my kitchen table eating high fiber cereal and blogging at 4:30am so I can leave at 6:30am to endure torture that I pay for). I decided to embark on this pleasant journey because in another lapse of good judgment I signed up for a triathlon this September (which, BTW, is around the corner) and I needed someone to kick my ass into shape.
Have you ever been really good at something and then let it go for a long while before trying to take it up again only to realize that it is going to take WAY more work than you thought to get remotely close to where you were? That’s where I am now -- about a year ago I was a super duper hard-core Workout Wendy. I had a trainer who forced me to do crazy and insane things that I would have NEVER thought possible. At the height of my badass-ness I was 13.6% body fat, could hold plank position for over 4 minutes and could do 41 for realsies push-ups in a row. One time I was doing pull-ups (with some help) on the bars in the middle of my fancy pants West Hollywood gym when Fabio (yes, the actual Fabio) came over to tell me that I was hardcore. Another time I won a push-up contest at the gym by doing 64 girl push-ups in a minute (and for those of you who just thought “that’s not hard, they were girl push-ups”, please take 60 seconds, try it and let me know how it goes). All of this shameless bragging has a point: I was serious business.
But now, I just try not to vom as I eeek out 10 push-ups while a camo-clad gentleman named Marcos yells that we will have to start over if we don’t count out loud. I try not to cry while being chased up a hill by a woman (also wearing camouflage) who could give Jillian Michaels a run for her money. It sucks, I hate it – not the actual working out part, but the fact that I suck SO bad and I’m SO far away from where I want to be. But I go, 3 days a week because it know it is the only fighting chance I have not to die during the triathlon. I will train and I will get to a point where I am happy and healthy in my workout life. I will finish the triathlon (if I don’t get eaten by a shark during the swim…yikes!). I may never be Fabio-style hardcore again, but I do know for certain that the time will come when idea of wearing a bathing suit won’t cause me to stab myself in the eye.
What about you? What’s something that you wish you didn’t “let go” and need to start up again??