I’m already taking a break from my posts about people in my life. But as soon as I started down this path today I knew I’d have to blog about it.
Yesterday I got the all-clear from my OB for regular activity. This includes working out. Now, I’m not a workout queen, I hate the gym, and my idea of exercise requires me to be enjoying myself – a dance class, maybe boxing – an actual ACTIVITY. Not just weights and machines. So I surprised even myself in January when I decided to take advantage of a purchasing program at work that allowed for large purchases with monthly payments coming out of my paycheck. I waffled between the treadmill and the elliptical, finally settling on the elliptical based on the input from other friends with knee problems like me (no cartilage in my right knee due to an injury in my 20’s, along with early arthritis in both knees and hips, also diagnosed in my 20’s).
The elliptical came. I put it together myself. I worked out on it a handful of times before we started our FET cycle. Of course, when we started cycling, the elliptical workouts stopped. Not that I couldn’t continue during the first phase of the cycle, but I felt so crappy on the birth control pills and patches there was no way I could bring myself to hoist myself up on that thing and actually make it move.
Then, pregnant. Maybe not pregnant. Maybe pregnant. And I’m not working out during the uncertainty. Hell I’d never work out again if it meant still being pregnant. Followed by a D&C and a week off to find my center again.
But today. This afternoon. After a weekend with my baby girl, I decide. I’m getting back on that thing. It’s time. I actually lost weight trying to get pregnant and being pregnant until almost 8 weeks. I bought a new pair of pants yesterday. Two sizes smaller than I’ve been wearing all year. So I know. I know that the rest is up to me. And it’s time.
I load up my iPod with some of my birthday purchases and head upstairs with some water and throw on shorts, a tank top, and my tennis shoes. I know this is not going to be pretty. Thank God the air conditioner is on. I had already decided I wouldn’t do a 30 minute preset workout, just the 20 minute warmup workout. I don’t want to overdo it.
I go to start my iPod and I realize that what I need is my girl. Idina. I don’t care if the tempo is wrong, at least not when I start off. I need a voice that moves me. That speaks to me. Not a mindless beat. This isn’t a mindless workout. This means something. It’s a step. Forward.
I find Idina Menzel on my artists in the menu and I hit all songs and push play. I don’t care what the song is. And when it starts, the tears start to flow. I’m crying hard enough that I’m worried I can’t keep going. I take a few breaths, drop my head back, close my eyes, and push through. I cry through that whole first song. I don’t want to be here. On this thing. I want to be sitting on the couch, nauseous, tired, and pregnant. But I’m not. I cry for what I don’t have anymore. I cry for who I’m not anymore. I cry for what I am so blessed with. I cry because as much as I want to believe they have, the tears haven’t dried up.
Two songs later, I’m ready to push myself. I throw on “Don’t Stop Believin'” from Glee and can’t help but fall into step. 12mph. A decent pace. But it’s not about speed, or calories, or distance. It’s just about getting through 20 minutes; however many miles to start the next leg of the journey. At the end of 20 minutes, I’ve gone almost 4 miles, and throw a sprint into the last 10 seconds.
I don’t enjoy working out. I’m going to be, though. The elliptical and Jillian’s 30 Day Shred are going to be my friends for the next few months. Part of the next leg of the journey is about being better to myself. My body. My soul. My psyche.
The beauty turned to pain. But I can turn the pain back into beauty.