My Sanctuary

Okay, so I love the gym. And not just a little bit. It is what I get up in the morning excited to do. It is somewhat of a guilty pleasure, but who on earth feels GUILTY about going to the gym?!?

I think back to the first week or two I went. Man, was I scared! I sat in the cardio cinema trying to figure out the recumbent bike and terrified that anyone might take notice of me. I felt like I didn't belong there. Like I was TOO FAT to even attempt to do anything about it. I would do my little workout, slink back to the locker room, mortified that I had to walk past what I refer to as the "man part of the gym". I went to the aqua classes and enjoyed them. But I also knew that I could try something a little harder than the workout enjoyed by the senior set. I got up the courage to talk to a trainer that intimidated the hell out of me. I was scared to even speak to her for fear of the condemnation I thought I would see in her eyes. Though the fear of putting a number to my body fat percentage was crippling, I did it anyway. And just resolved that it was a starting point and that I would never look back.

Once I decided to work with a trainer, I began to feel a little less awkward. I still hated the "man part of the gym", and she made me spend the majority of our time there together, but I've gotten over the shame. Whenever I start to feel myself going back there, I tell myself, "It's not like you're sitting here eating french fries!" and then I would get over my delusional self and realize that no one else is at the gym for the express purpose of making fun of fat women; they are actually there for their own workouts. This realization has made it a lot easier to tune out all the junk and focus on doing what I came to do.

I started trying a few classes. The first time I went into the BodyFlow class (Tai Chi, Yoga, Pilates) I thought I would die. It was discouraging, but relaxing. It provided me the opportunity to be completely focused on what I was doing for just one hour. I didn't think about what I would make for lunch or what assignments the kids are working on. I just stayed in the moment, a practice that is entirely unfamiliar to me. I've been back a few times and tried a couple different instructors. Though I haven't been in a while, I know I will continue to go back. After watching the BodyJam class through the windows from the elliptical trainer, I mustered up the courage to go hide in the back. (Just found out today from another trainer that it isn't the ideal hiding spot I think it is. I am not, in fact, invisible while working out there. Darn it.) I went a couple times and LOVED the instructor and the class, but felt WAY out of my league. This week I went back and realized that my fitness level has improved enough that I could sort of keep up. Granted I haven't grown leaps and bounds in the coordination department, but I had a good time, and again I lived in the moment and enjoyed an hour of leaving it all at the door.

It has been 90 days since I first worked out at the gym. I have lost 42.6 pounds and I feel stronger and better than I ever have. I've spent enough time at the gym now that I am developing relationships with people. Getting to know why they are there, and enjoying the comraderie of actively pursuing fitness.

This week has been a benchmark for me as well. Several people at the gym, some I know and some I do not, have approached me and told me that they can see my progress and see my tenacity and they are speaking words of encouragement and support. Oh my word! Here I've been pretending that I'm invisible so that I'm not terrified of the judgment of others only to find that the judgments people are making are much more affirming than I would have ever imagined. It brings me back to the root of the problem really. That judgment I expect is real all right. It's really me. It's years of that voice in my head.

The fact that I can go somewhere and do something every single day to quiet that voice is tremendous - the greatest blessing imaginable. I've spent my life focusing on every single aspect of myself other than the physical. The physical was just too much to bear. But I'm realizing as I tend to the physical, that I'm opening the door for really growing and maturing. I was too involved with food to really love the Lord with all my heart, with all my soul, and with all my strength. And I'm finding that the strength I have with which to love Him is growing each time I step into the gym.