Growing up I was never an athletic child. My sister, who is one year my junior, is freakishly athletic. She excelled in any sport she decided to try. My mom, being the mother of nine, decided to save time and sign me up for any sport my sister decided to test-drive. It was torture.
While my sister mastered the back tuck and aerial in gymnastics, I stalled out at the back walkover. I had no desire to do anything which did not involve hands. Even as a youngster, I saw where that had potential for a life-changing injury. While she was smacking homeruns and diving for catches in softball, I was in right field wondering what idiot chose brown uniforms for a sport played in the dead heat of summer. When my coach felt I made a great pitcher and first baseman, I begged until I got put back in right field. Way too much pressure in the other two positions.
Finally at around age 13, I begged my case sufficiently and was released from the contract. I was able to choose my own activities. I understand a parent having to give a child like me a bit of a push. I would have been content to stay in my room all day with books. I chose horseback riding and piano. I loved both. I even took an English riding class my freshman year in college to fulfill my PE requirement.
After I had children, I began walking. After all, that baby weight wasn't going to take itself off. I enjoyed it. I would pack the kids up and we would go to the park and all around the neighborhood. We would collect things on our walks every day and make crafts with them after their naps. Nothing extravagant, just time killers.
Over the years, I added lots of workout tapes to the mix. When the kids took their morning naps, I worked out. I loved tae bo, yoga, dancing, basically anything to vary my work outs. A friend of ours used to stop by alot on his days off for coffee and he said, "everytime I come here, you are working out." I didn't realize I had gotten so into it but he was right. I get bored easily and it was a way to get some variety into my days.
The last couple of years my enthusiasm has waned. I would go through spurts when I had a lot of enthusiasm. I have a friend and she inspired me to try running. We would go on marathon hiking/walking adventures every weekend. Then I rolled my ankle and had to take months off. We never did get back into the swing of it.
I continued to work out but it felt like a chore. I turned my basement into a full-fledged gym hoping it would inspire me. It wasn't a room with gym equipment in it, it became a gym (with one filing cabinet in it which I have yet to find another spot for). I did go use it but it was with dread, not enthusiasm.
The last couple of weeks I have been working out with gusto. The kids make fun of me because I will be sitting on the couch and then I'm in a plank. I'm at the computer then they look over and I'm doing push ups. I decided to just do little things all day. I had the "all or nothing" mentality. If I couldn't get a full, good workout in, I did nothing. These little changes added up and now I'm doing a quality workout every day.
Last night my husband told me he is so proud of how much I work out. I had no idea but he said he was sitting on the steps watching me in the "gym" the other day and he is so impressed with how strong I am and how committed. He doesn't know anyone who works out as much as I do. (Apparently, he took a picture of me doing yoga which I am trying to get him to delete but so far, no luck!) He also thanked me for trying so hard to cook healthfully for us and always watching out what we eat. He would eat like a teen boy if I didn't try to keep things straight. We are not perfect but I would say, 80% of our lifestyle is healthy and 20% is just fun.
I told him I struggled for a few years but I think it was because of all we were going through; the stress, the fighting and the overall pall which had begun to shadow our daily existence. I let him know that I tried my best to remain positive and optimistic but it was taking it's toll. I only have so much in me and he was draining it. As much as I would try every day to wake up and carry on, I knew things were coming to a head and my mind was filled with it. I told myself working out would make it less stressful to go through all of this but my body would not cooperate.
There is a totally different feel in my household. It feels like my old life. The kids have noticed the difference. The other day my husband was downloading music from the computer and singing and rocking out and my son said, "Oh, papa is happy again?" It's so strange because at that moment I realized I hadn't seem my husband relaxed and happy in a very long time. His face even looks peaceful and rested again. I didn't realize how changed it was for a while.
I'm back to working out. I look forward to it every day. I started my day with yoga this morning. I plan on hitting the elliptical and doing some strength training. I will walk the dog. All of this will be done with a happy heart, not a sense of dread and requirement. I am realizing how much stress affected me. I was totally unaware. I thought I was coping. No matter how much we think we control our minds, when there are things our subconscious wants to deal with, it will; with or without our permission.
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