So today we’re going to get a little personal on the blog (inspired by this little baby right here) . . .
About eight months ago, I went through a breakup. It was right around the time I moved back to New York and started a new job, so I jumped right into having fun with old friends, meeting new ones, and going on lotsa dates. Eventually everything caught up with me, and I began to realize that partying and dating weren’t going to fix any part of me. It was around that time that I made a promise to myself–I wanted to focus on taking care of myself, no matter how lonely or boring it would be compared to the summer.
Part of this promise was that I would start going to the gym regularly. I had been going on and off since August, but often times my social life took first priority and I cancelled classes to go out with friends or on dates or because I was hungover. So sometime in December, I started forcing myself to go.
And . . .
I feel like a new person. Like a hard-ass motherfucking Amazonian queen, to quote my favoritest and the real queen of all, Cheryl Strayed.
((Not to be dramatic or anything. <diva emoji>))
I’ve never been a gym person. I was athletic in high school, but sort of fell off the bandwagon once college hit. But something about this gym was different. I fell in love with the instructors and their music, the gym itself, and the classes. Every day at work I find myself looking forward to the minute I’ll be on the bike or about to begin a round of circuits. Weird, right? I know. Because once I’m there, it’s a totally different story. I start to climb the first hill or get through a round of lunges and the thoughts are like a stampede: icantdoitimnotgoingtomakeitisthisalmostovermakeitstop. And then just when I think I can’t take it anymore, the tide shifts. I change directions, muscles, speeds, and get ready to do it all over again. Because I can. And because I am strong. Stronger than I know. And I surprise myself with that every time. And maybe that is the reason I crave a class at the end of the day–to show myself that I am stronger than every one of my excuses. Maybe it’s the soreness in my muscles that lets me know I worked hard. Or maybe it’s the fact that I don’t feel as bad about that afternoon cookie. But mostly I think it’s because I don’t think of anything other than the challenge in front of me when I’m in that room for 50 minutes–everything falls away for a blissful, sweat-filled hour until I walk back out the door.
And it is healing me. One of my favorite instructors said something a while ago during class that I haven’t been able to get out of my mind. During the middle of the hardest hill of class, she said, “Where does your mind go right now? Instead of I can’t do it, you should be thinking, I’m fucking killing it right now.” I think this is true for life, too. I’ve talked about self-love and seeing love before, and putting it into practice is the real thang, man. It’s making a choice to look at something differently and think about it differently and believe it with your whole heart. It’s realizing that your life is full of love, with or without a boyfriend. It’s realizing that time is an odd and precious thing, and the greatest gift of all is choosing how to spend it. And I’m so thankful for this crazy fitness thing for teaching me so many things that I never knew I needed.
So here’s to sweat, thoughts of summer, and girl power. Love you guys!