I have flirted with physical fitness for almost 15 years now, and I often equate it to the downward spiral of addition, only fitness is an upward spiral to happiness. Now, before you roll your eyes at me, lemme tell you I ain’t no flat-bellied sinew monster who only eats salmon and nuts. And my journey hasn’t been perfection. But I do like the way my body feels when it sweats and how it looks when I eat, say, lettuce as opposed to lettuce on a submarine sandwich.
The truth is, like in most things, I always feel I could be doing better. I know I could definitely eat better, even though, when compared to most, I eat pretty healthfully. But my body still holds onto extra weight even as it gets stronger, faster and better. Or maybe my body looks incredible, and my mindset it the things that needs to lose the excess baggage. Because just a few minutes ago, when I tried on some shorts, I said out loud to God, “WHEN am I going to stop looking fat in shorts????”
This is stupid. You know why? Because this morning, while many people were eating taylor ham, egg and cheese on a bagel, I had 2 eggs, 2 blueberry muffins made with almond flour and a big glass of water. While most normal people were lounging in their PJ’s I, like an utterly insane person, subjected myself to Crossfit. There, I had a coach tell me to do the following: Hit a large truck tire with a heavy hammer twenty times (this made me feel like a big spaz — there’s a technique to tire-abuse, apparently — but it was excellent for my anger issues), then run 200 meters. Come back and jump up onto the (very large) tire twenty times, then run 200 meters. Then come back and pick up the (very heavy) tire and roll it over (use your back muscles). Go run another 200 meters, then come back inside so we can start your workout. Because that was just the warmup.
And I did. I did go in and do the workout.
So I should feel pretty freakin’ amazing about myself right now instead of hating my insistent love handles. But I do. Is this programmed into me to hate my body? What’s up with that? Look what my body just did!
But there’s also this persistent thing inside me that says, “I wonder if…” What would happen if I decided to really go for it? I mean, what would it take for me to change my body into that of an elite athlete? What are the right foods, in what combination, and how many hours of working out would it take? I want to commit to finding out. In fact, I do commit, every morning. Then I spot the ice cream.
And this is what frustrates me so about myself. My intentions are all good and last all of about twenty seconds. I am an emotional eater — I’ve prayed that God would help me work on this, turn my attention to Him until food is no longer my god (a small god, but a god nonetheless) but I know i have some self-readjustment to do as well. I’m stumped.
But there’s still that idea floating around in my head. I mean, we all see the Biggest Loser, right? Love that show. But I need a show called The Medium Loser. I want a show that takes this real-life housewife with her real-life time constraints and turns her upside down nutritionally and physically — get inside my head to find the athlete that I am.
I know I am a touch chick. I know I am a fighter. So why do I feel like such a wuss all the time? What trick can I play on my brain to get my body to cooperate?
I’m almost tempted to make a film. I know nothing about making a film. But I want to make a documentary of myself becoming an elite athlete. Maybe even just for like, six weeks. I dunno. What would it take? What would I have to do?
Anybody out there own a camera?