Hear me ROAR
[yes, that's a hippo. I was considering using a lion image for the roar, but a hippo is WAY scarier and therefore more awesome]
So, things in my work life have gotten a little (lot) bit more hectic thanks to a promotion (hurrah!), and while it’s all good things, it’s made me realize that I need to be a little bit more aware about investing my time in things that are truly rewarding for me, and trying to train smarter and more efficiently because I just don’t have as much time to spend any more. So… I bit the bullet and had my first-ever session with a personal trainer.
I went with a friend, and it was a mix of pushing stuff, jumping on stuff, throwing stuff, pulling stuff, and most fun of all: kicking and punching stuff. I learned that I have stronger legs than I realized, a pretty killer (and fast) right hand cross, and that it’s really hard to do all of the above when someone (like maybe your friend) is making you laugh. Most of all, I learned: the training regimen I have right now has made me way, way stronger, more toned, and more fit than I realized. And wow, what a nice pat on the back that is!
Okay, so I had to lay on a bench afterwards (absolutely drenched in sweat) for 10 minutes before I could confidently say that I was definitely not going to vomit (especially since my tummy was rumbling even before we started). And then I was still a little hesitant to have a protein shake, because, well, it was chocolate colored and I didn’t want to possibly vomit. And it was about an hour after the session, when I had finished the shake and taken a shower, that I finally got the post-training amped-up glowy “I can take on the world” feeling that I’ve heard so much about. But, I got it, and it was awesome. And I can’t wait for the next session (which is actually in a couple days)!
I really am not being cute when I say that I never stepped foot in a gym, did any weight training, or had any experience in dance or fitness prior to starting pole. I was “skinny fat”—no muscle tone whatsoever. I had no connection to my body either: no confidence in its abilities, no pride in its strength. I wore a size 0 and my clothes fit, so what did I care? And somehow I’ve become this protein shake and energy bar and energy gel (in BULK) buying person, who is active at least 15 hours a week? And KILLING IT with my trainer to the point where he was actually impressed? What?
I’ve gained 30 pounds of muscle, gone up 4 dress sizes (although my waist hasn’t changed), and I have the confidence born of knowing: yes, I have a secret weapon in my pocket. And that is my bad-ass pole dancing skills. And you know what? I’m fine with walking around in a sports bra and booty shorts in a room full of people. Under fluorescent lights. With lots of cheekage. And I’m okay with the fact that my shoulders are now a Medium even though the rest of me is a Small. Or that my hands are callused like I do serious manual labor instead of sit at a desk 9-5. Or that my legs are dented where the pole crosses my shin when I climb. I’m okay with all of that. Because my body is no longer just a vehicle I ride in that I need to keep polished or perfect– it’s my tool, and it works hard for me, flaws, dings, scratches, and all. I USE this body. I can accomplish things, things that I never thought were possible with this body in this lifetime. And I’m damn proud.
Tomorrow’s post: Thursday Tunes…