What Does an Athlete Look Like?

Tomorrow will be the fourth month in a row that I'm testing in kickboxing. There are those who think that I shouldn't be testing this quickly (myself included, at times) between belts, but I have to admit that the challenge of doing so definitely keeps me motivated, and striving to become a better me. At some point, this will no longer be possible as I will need too many classes to test each month, but in the meantime, I find myself debating whether or not it's a worthwhile cause to continue to do the tests each month for as long as I can. As I have mentally debated this over the past several weeks, I've often thought that there is no real reason for me to be pushing myself like this. What is it that's spurring me to action, exactly?

As I've been pondering this very idea, Sam brought to my attention something that I found odd, but intriguing. We were discussing the hang up that I have about the "6 month time frame" with losing weight and working out. I'm always fearful during the 6-8 month marker because in the past (as I've mentioned before) it is the point at which I generally give up and go back to my old ways. We were discussing how things feel different this time because it's not a "diet" that I am doing, and there's nothing to "go off of." I've viewed this as a change in life that's maintainable - which was the whole purpose. Still, I have my doubts because when one is crossing into unknown territory, it can be frightening - even if I'm aware of what can and has happened in the past. As we were having this discussion, Sam uttered something in the middle of a thought that stuck with me. He said, "Well, you're an athlete now." I laugh just typing it, and I laughed aloud when he said it while we were chatting.

I'm not an athlete. I've never been an athlete. I'm uncoordinated, unskilled, clumsy, awkward (at times), have always been picked last for every sport I've ever played - not to mention being overweight and the limitations that brings. But, the thought stuck with me, and I pondered it a bit more. An athlete? Me? I suppose it's possible. I train several hours a day, I'm often healing some sort of "war wound" from training, I'm aware of when, what, and how often I'm eating, and I have goals for myself. I'm becoming better at the things I'm doing, and finding ways to challenge myself. Is it possible? Am I turning into an athlete? I honestly don't even know what to do with that thought. I'm not the athlete... I'm the fat girl, who's not good at sports. The latter title seems much easier to accept than the former, and I'm trying to determine why.

The eternal optimist when it comes to others, I find the stark opposite to be the truth when it comes to myself. I am happy to cheer on others, and know full well that they are capable of anything they put their mind to doing, but I can't seem to believe the same for myself.  It's not as though this is restricted to the current situation either because it runs across all areas of life. I doubt everything I do and expect that what I'm doing is never good enough to call myself "fill_in_the_blank." I'm not an athlete, I'm not an artist, I'm not strong, I'm not a cyclist.  It's as though I have some kind of never-achievable idea of what it is I should be in order to call myself by whatever title. But, the reality is that I am all of these things, and the only one who doesn't yet believe it ... is me.

Some day though... one day, I will know that I am an athlete and I'll have the confidence to proclaim it out loud.

Finding Kickboxing

About a year or so ago, the woman who cuts my hair and I were chatting about life and we rolled somehow onto the topic of exercise. I was telling her that I used to take a "real" kickboxing class back in the mid-90s, and have been unable to find a class like that again. I've been to plenty of the cardio-kickboxing type of classes, but it's simply not the same as having an actual bag to kick and hit. A wonderful stress reliever, if truth be told. She mentioned that she had been attending a kickboxing class just down the street for awhile now and that I should come by and check it out. That's just what I did...

A year later. Okay, so perhaps I'm not the quickest responder of calls to action, but I got there eventually. Sometimes people just need time to figure things out for themselves, and for me, it took about a year to get my rear physically to where it needed to be. Today was that first class. Having taken kickboxing before (though many years ago), I knew I would be sore after the class, but even having that knowledge, I wasn't prepared for the pain that awaited me. I had been warned by other attendees to be prepared for a diet of ibuprofen for the next several days to help alleviate some of the aches. I'm not much of a pill taker (even aspirin), so I really didn't want to go down that road. However, after a short amount of time feeling the pain, I went ahead and gave in to the suggestion.

This class is going to be awesome. The owner allows a week of attendance to figure out whether or not it's the right thing for the individual, but I can tell that this is exactly what I am in need of right now. It's not the cheapest thing ever, but at the same time, can I really put a price on health? I feel like I have found my exercise home. Even if it doesn't last long term, I can sense that this is setting me down the right path.

Here's to exercise - and all those wonderful, wonderful endorphins that come along with it!

New Beginnings

This is the story of how one fat girl is turning into a very strong woman. As I begin the story, I should point out that I am, indeed, still the fat girl, but I believe with every ounce of my being that it is possible to become the strong woman I know I can be. My story may or may not coincide with yours, and you may or may not find that you identify with pieces of my tale, but either way I hope to re-motivate myself when needed, and have some history to be able to look over when I am feeling down.

What's my story? I have been overweight (obese) my entire life. I am (according to the doctor's charts) extremely overweight. How did it happen? Slow and steady. You'd think with that much extra weight it would be difficult to get around, but I've adapted, and I've always been active. Although not horribly coordinated, I do enjoy sports, riding a bike, and believe it or not, I even ran and completed a marathon just a few years ago (even with all the excess weight).

I sometimes think I came out of the womb a chunky baby because the universe knew that it would be cruel to make me thin for a few months, only to immediately turn into a chunk-a-dunk child. My entire family has been overweight or obese at various points in their individual lives. My husband is not fat. He is athletic and strong, and I sometimes wonder why a person who's in such great shape (even without trying) would want to be with someone who is struggling to fit into her tent-sized jeans.

When we first dated, I was smaller, but not by much. Our initial meeting was somewhat a blind date and I was not thrilled with the prospect of meeting someone who didn't know what I looked like. I don't think I'm ugly, but so many people in this world are obsessed with body image, and I didn't want to deal with another rejection (particularly from someone I was trying to date), nor was I interested in landing a "chubby chaser." As the universe would have it, we were stuck like glue to each other pretty much from that first date. Little did I know that he was a perfect balance for all the madness that is my life. He sees the beauty when I have only disgust. I hope to see myself through his eyes one day.

While there is much more to the story, I suppose I will leave it there for now. Tomorrow is a new day - that is the beauty of each morning - no matter what has happened, I can make the choice to start fresh again.