I don’t want to be the same voice you hear over and over…
Telling you the things you already know…
I want to dig deeper.
Did you know I used to hate exercise and I wore my sedentary lifestyle like a badge of honour?
I’d laugh at anyone who thought it was a good idea (I’m a nice person, see?).
Who were these “fit chicks” and muscled-up men, who thought they knew everything there was about the meaning of life because they went to the gym or ate healthy food?
That was just SURFACE level mumbo-jumbo anyway…
The things that seemed funny to me were people bragging about their uber weight lifting stats or one of their 100th shot of themselves naked for all to see… believing that was authentic or cool.
(So much has changed! NOT!)
And while some of it still makes me laugh, even if some of it IS surface level mumbo-jumbo, what I didn’t realise then was that it wasn’t necessarily THEM that disturbed me. It was ME. I wasn’t taking responsibility for something deeper… something tangled in FEAR and RESISTANCE.
I was one of the lucky ones, because my body got angry at me.
Things began to unravel in front of me.
Basically, I was not completely ill but I was not well either.
I was in this limbo and it was if the culture was telling me that was just the way things had to be.
I was excessively self-conscious when I was a teenager until a couple of years into university. I was squishier than I am now. I lost my breath countless times trying to keep up with my mates on hikes (or even just walking on the road). I remember feeling the emotions of the rainbow, partly from eating blocks of chocolates and downing 11 coffees at a time trying to finish assignments while burning the midnight oil night after night.
I started getting infections more often. I felt sick, lethargic, listless, fat, unhappy, trapped…
Something wasn’t right but who had TIME for exercise? Who had the MONEY for the gym?
That wasn’t me.
I was the nerd-non-sporty-chick, not the ripped barbie.
At that age you could have told me ANY part of my body and I could have told you why I hated it. I had pimples. I ate junk that made me bloat (but it wasn’t the junk that made me sick, yeah?!) and I am SURE my adrenals were fairly out of whack – my fault, not anyone else’s – and my mental health suffered.
So much for a one-person rebellion…
What exactly was I rebelling against?
The healthy food?
A little. But more than that, I was rebelling against my truth.
I was fighting to stay SMALL (and no I can’t change the fact I’m 5″).
I second-guessed myself and fought to keep my self-doubt on me like chains.
But something inside me fought to free me from that.
And I am hopelessly grateful it did.
In 2009, I felt something start to shift.
Instead of staying home because I didn’t want to exercise, for fear of turning beetroot red or not being able to keep up, I started moving. I started eating more veggies and less junk foods. I lost 10kgs too.
I distinctly remember a hike, which woke me from my slumber. I remember watching my now-husband Daniel charging up the mountains and looking vibrant and healthy.
I finally felt GOOD moving my body and just as something was shifting in me, his presence inspired me.
He gave me the confidence to step into the gym.
And once I started lifting weights…
I wanted in.
I wanted to say goodbye to the excuses.
I wanted to say goodbye to being left behind, out of breath, incapacitated…
I would only be young once after all…
So it was time to surrender to the journey to fitness. ‘YOLO’ we would now say.
The simple act of stepping into the weights room was the catalyst for transformation.
And I’ll never look back.