Workin' on My Fitness

There comes a point when you realize that you can no longer eat half a pizza without consequence. Your jeans are getting tighter, and suddenly, there are lines around your eyes that weren't there last night. The years are no longer plodding along until your sixteenth birthday (which passed long ago); the years are zipping by with such ferocity that you wish your smart phone had a "Pause" button alongside the "Snooze" button.

I used to be able to swim a thousand yards with little exertion and even less thought. Fitness wasn't something I did, it was part of who I was. And then I got busy. My body carried two babies for each of their nine months and nourished them for far longer than that. It was exhausting. A one mile walk was simply too much. Too much effort. Too much time.

I lost part of me for a few years. My sneakers deteriorated in my closet, and I don't even want to try and explain how stuck together my swim cap and goggles became in the bottom of a gym bag.

About a year ago, a friend started running, and every now and again, she'd send me a text message encouraging me to try the same. I've always respected her opinion, and I admire her more than she knows. So, I tried to run.

A mile nearly killed me. But it didn't. So, I kept running. The miles accumulated slowly, and my speed started accelerating. I found myself at the gym two afternoons a week, then three, then more. My children personally know the caregivers in the kid room at our local YMCA now, and the caregivers know my children. Dare I say, we're "regulars?"

Somewhere in the midst of finding that part of me that had been missing, I noticed a change in my general trajectory. I surfaced from what felt like crushing depths of despair and gasped for air. My body felt stronger and my mind along with it. Some days, I ran in silence, other days with my music at full volume. I spent much needed hours inside my own thoughts, and I escaped from those same thoughts. Fitness, I learned, is so much more than physical.

I've been working on my fitness the past year or so, and in doing so, I'm getting stronger. I have goals again (some that I'll share soon, and some that I won't--not just yet anyway--they're just too lofty). I've reconnected with old friends and made some new ones. My state of mind, for the first time in a while, is  sunshiney.

This weekend, I ran a 10K. That's over six miles. And I did it! I really did! If I say it enough, at some point I'll start to believe it myself. I wasn't the fastest, but I wasn't the slowest. And next time, I'll be faster with a new goal.

My bestie ran it with me--she's pretty much a rock star in my eyes:

This was before we started--when we looked all shiny and new at 7 a.m.

I've also found my way back to the pool, which was tougher than starting to run. I was a good swimmer, and I swam the hard events. I'm an okay swimmer now, and I can't swim the hard events. It's easier to take on something new than to fight the realization that I'm not quite what I used to be. But it still feels good to be back. And, of course, swimming isn't much fun without a little competition every now and then. Last week, I got to swim with some old friends in an alumni swim meet. 

We totally rocked it (we're the ones in the back row--the front row kids just graduated last year. They don't really count as alumni until they're at least 20, right?)

I had the best cheering team ever. (The photographer is only 5. Let's cut him some slack, shall we? Oh, and if you could totally pretend that Gigi's finger isn't up her nose, that would be awesome too.).

He looks good next to a pool. I hope someday he finds the sport that will become part of him too. 

I started working on my fitness a little less than a year ago. I've come a long way. I've found a part of me that had been missing for a long time. The best part? I think so.