So I saw this and I had to share. Can I get an Amen?! Love, love, love. Let me back up. Last night, I had major SNA (Sunday night anxiety). You know what I’m talking about. The weekend is over and tomorrow begins the work week. Your sleep schedule is out of whack, your body’s on a sugarbuzz from the sweets you ate this weekend. And this weekend was worse because of Daylight Savings!
Before bed, I couldn’t decide if I would go to Crossfit, Back on My Feet or just work out at my apartment alone in the AM. Yeah, Middle class girl problems. But it was stressing me out for some reason. If I don’t decide what I’m doing in the morning before bed, nothing may happen at all!
I ended up waking up at 4:45 a.m., 10 minutes before my alarm went off. I laid there an extra five minutes and thought about how much I didn’t want to get up and work out. It felt all kinds of wrong. It usually does, especially on a Monday after a weekend of just horrible nutrition. But…the strong won.
I got up and got myself to the gym by 5:15am. Today, I was reminded of my days as a gymnast — when ripped hands and chalk were the norm. We did knee to elbows and let’s just say — it’s not as easy as it looks. But as I did my exercises and slowly crept through perfect position push ups and squats, I again recognized something important.
This stuff is hard. In the past, I wouldn’t really push myself. Even at running, I struggle with giving my ALL a lot. But I’m giving this my best — this is Crossfit and I’m finding it’s all about rising above the mental. I seriously felt my head saying, “you can’t.” Then, I told my head to shut up and said, “yes, you can.” I’m not kidding, kids, I literally had a conversation like this with myself. It’s awesome when you win those arguments 🙂
In reference to the very top photo…I remember when I wanted desperately skinny legs. I remember in the midst of my eating disorder sitting in the bath tub and finding a sickening pleasure in the fact that my thighs literally didn’t touch. I remember seeing photos of myself in short shorts — and staring at them because I was admiring how thin my legs were. I remember being filled with glee that size 0 pants from the GAP were too big.
|My running legs. I like them.|
If I had a choice — and well, come to think of it, I do — I’d choose those legs up top. I’d choose the legs I’ve got, and the legs they are gonna be when I’m done with them. This body is able, these legs are good.