Today was hard. Actually it sucked. I put on my uniform, that I am usually extremely proud to put on, and I wanted to cry. It doesn’t fit like it should anymore. I could blame my thyroid, yes it makes things more challenging but not impossible. I could blame my depression, my insane schedule, not managing my grief, or a number of other factors but if I am being honest…I got lazy. No that’s not even true. Lazy is not a word I would use to describe myself. Working out became too hard. My lungs begged for air every time I walked up my stairs so why the heck would I try to run or row or do anything that involved…well breathing.
Working out is hard when you are nearly 50 pounds heavier than you should be. What’s even harder is realizing that you may lose something that is extremely important to you. And because it can get even worse you realize that you essentially stopped taking care of yourself for the past….well…..I don’t even know how long. It makes me sick to look at that number. 50. How is that even possible? 50. Its easy to go down the pity path. To be frustrated and angry. To view myself as “that” trainer. The one who doesn’t practice what she preaches. To be the overweight soldier. While those both hold truth in their descriptions, I have been working so hard to not be those, to be better.
What I realized tonight was that while I was trying to be better so that I wouldn’t be the overweight soldier or “that” trainer….I wasn’t working out for the right reasons. I wasn’t trying to be better or healthier for me.
Tonight I am allowing myself a pity party. I feel like absolute crap both physically and emotionally. Tomorrow, regardless how I feel I am getting up early and going to the studio so that I can run or throw a kettlebell for me. I will focus on me, being healthy, for me.