It's
time to get off this dark horse and ride a unicorn or something.
At
least that's what the ninja said to me a while back. And, in all
seriousness, I have been in a bit of funk as of late.
Why
in the funk, Suzie Spitfyre!?
I
don't want to talk about it. (Because
when I do I get weirdly emotional and cry. WTF!? Ninjas shouldn't
be all teary...and broken.)
As
you know from previous posts, for the last little while I've been
bouncing around at about 145 pounds...I've come as close to goal as
138 pounds and gone as far away as 163. It is very hard for me not
to obsess about this. “Focus on how you feel, ninja,” if I feel
fit and strong, I'm cool. If I feel wildly out of control, I'm not
so cool. In fact, I panic, doubt myself, and fall a downward spiral
of junk food and other bad choices. Then I get over it, buckle down
and take care of business. I got this, I know how to do it...in
fact, I'm pretty good at it...when I focus.
That's
my resent history...no crazy drops in weight, but no huge gains
either. This is the boring part. No celebrating 7 pound losses, no
surprising victories over push-ups, no mayor wearing his chains of
office to congratulate me for being the biggest loser...just
maintenance. And maintenance sucks.
I
know, I know, I really don't have problems if these are my problems
right?! Nonetheless, this stuff weighs heavy (pun intended) on my
psyche. For the last year and just over a half, I have built myself
up by leaning myself down, so going in the opposite direction scares
the sh!t out of me. And the reason the scale is going in said
direction...well, it's because of me. But, just as I had decided to
give up drinking wine on the balcony, Bum Biter BBQs, and sneaking in
a bag of Doritos while watching True Blood on my Croatian
Conscience's couch...
I
left the Shimmy Shack and embarked on a run along the Westsong
Walkway. The run I do is around 7K and includes the
stairs of death (there are 100 of them, and I try and do them at
least 5 times..and lately I've been doing them a few more times than
that...um...10 times, I'm a keener). So out I go on my merry little
way, feeling particularly strong and fit...running to the beat of all
these songs on my play list that are all obviously written
specifically for me...when SNAP! Limp, limp, limp. Oh crap.
My
little injury (ruptured ACL) has reared its ugly head yet again.
Apparently, at the time of the MRI there were possibly two little strands
holding on for dear life, and what I just did took care of at least one of
them. Normally I wouldn't be such a cry-baby, but I was out on a
trail about 2 kilometres from home and I was sore. I walked back
along the pathway to my house...dragging my leg, ruing the decision I
made to leave my mobile phone at home.
Realising
that walking home in such a gimpy way ate into my precious
get-ready-for-work-time, when I finally got home, I showered very
quickly...but how was I going to work a shift if I couldn't even walk
properly!? And to top that off, thou shalt wear heels on counter is
practically written in the MAC dress code. I called my manager. “I
don't think I'll be able to come into work today, I just felt
something in my knee pop and there's a lot of swelling. I should
probably ice it and keep it elevated, at least for today.” Damn,
someone beat me to the punch, so no sick day for me. Already one man
down. In pain, I put on my knee high combat boots, a skirt, button
down shirt 'n' tie, braided my hair into two tight French braids, and
took the bus two stops to town. Suck it up, Princess.
On
a side note: As I “toughed it out” on counter, one of the
department’s staff told me I looked less Wednesday Addams bad-ass
private school girl (the look I was obviously going for) and more,
well, how do I put this!? Nazi. Oh good. I wonder if that's why my
sales were so high...”Buy this make-up or I invade Poland!” I
know, I know, not funny...sorry.
The
point that I am trying to make is this...when I feel out of control
or upset, an easy fix for me used to be to lose myself in food. And
now, it is to find discipline and focus at the gym...even if it's
after losing myself in food because I'm not going to lie and say
that never happens. It does. Still. So what happens if you take
the gym away?! Well, nothing good. I get a little down in
the dumps.
The
gym is my meditation station, my decompression session, my
opportunity community. I
feel safe, and loved. Before embarking on
this journey, I regarded gyms as places where hyper fit and annoying
people hung out and tried to out-do each other. These gym-types were judgmental and exclusive. And then I walked through the
doors of the Crystal Pool & Fitness Centre...and I realised, it was the
opposite. I was the bitter, annoyed person...I was judgmental and
exclusive. I was not looking forward to entering the gym, I didn't
know what to wear, how to do anything...and the people behind those
doors, well, they became a
huge
support system, my mentors, teachers, my friends...they welcomed
me to the health & fitness community with open arms, smiles free
of judgement with a pat on the back for all my efforts. I had never
experienced such a sense of community. My knee, on occasion, takes
all that away, and I am left to stew. I start shutting down.
As soon as I was well enough
to start gymming again, the Crystal Pool & Fitness Centre closed for
maintenance. I told you maintenance sucks. But, at least I found my unicorn.
The best thing about a new day is that you can choose how to face it.
