I have never been an athletic person. Even as a child I avoided physical activity like the plague. Gym class was torture, I hated every sport my parents ever signed me up to play, there are numerous pictures of me looking miserable on rollerblades or a bicycle. If forced I would play tag, but only freeze tag where I would immediately try to get frozen which meant I was now able to just stand quietly while the rest of the game progressed around me. I would have much, much rather been alone with a book or my American Girl dolls.
It shouldn’t be a big surprise then that working out is a struggle for me. It’s the biggest mental challenge I have on any given day-forcing myself to work out. When I woke up this morning with an achey knee and an overwhelming desire to just sit quietly in my kitchen and write, I was wracked with guilt.
“Just because your knee hurts doesn’t mean you can’t do an upper body workout,” said the devil on my shoulder.
“You deserve a rest day, stop being so obsessive. You work out for at least an hour 6 days a week! Enough is enough!” said the angel on my other shoulder.
Today, obviously, I listened to the angel, because here I am. But I still feel guilty, and I don’t like that.
This guilt isn’t coming from anyone but myself. If I texted my trainer right now she would probably tell me it’s fine to take a rest day and to just make sure I don’t lose momentum for tomorrow and the next day and to not eat like a monster today. She’s not a drill sergeant, she understands life is a thing that happens and rest is important.
The guilt comes entirely from myself and this obsession I have about being a certain weight for my wedding in 38 days (but who’s counting?).
Am I the skinniest I’ve ever been? No. But I am the strongest I’ve ever been. And my wedding dress fits. And I wouldn’t be ashamed to be on the beach with my smaller-than-they-used-to-be stomach rolls. So why am I still obsessing?
I have no idea. But I do know it has to stop. I can’t keep beating myself up about a weekend spent eating off-plan, or a missed workout. I need to focus on what I’m doing right and not worry so much about being wrong. I think if I didn’t have the wedding as such a concrete goal I may not feel this way, but with just over a month left every missed or half-assed workout feels like a gigantic failure.
I do know that after the wedding I need to re-evaluate what fitness really means to me, and what place it has in my life. I can guarantee post-wedding it will not mean working out 6 days a week and spending astronomical amounts of money on gym memberships. I need to find that happy medium where I still feel proud of the things my body can do, but I’m not crazed about hitting that next goal.
The “fit life” might be having a moment right now, but deep down inside I’m still that kid who would rather be laying down in a hammock with her book, and I have to remember that that’s okay.