My dad recently called me to wish me a happy birthday. When he asked what gifts I had received, I started to list them off: a free-standing punching bag from my husband; running shoes and marathon books from one friend; running socks, carbohydrate gels and tiger balm from another. My dad laughed and asked me, "What does that say about you?" Later that night I thought about the conversation with my dad. What did those gifts say about me? The answer made me laugh out loud in amazement. Those gifts say, "I am an athlete."
Two years ago, the word "athletic" would be the last word anyone would have used to describe me. The words obese and lazy would have been more appropriate. After a massive pregnancy-induced weight gain, I found myself tipping the scales at 245 pounds. Eventually, I got tired of being so miserable about my size and decided to do something about it. I knew that if I wanted to lose the weight, I would have to start exercising (along with improving my diet), but exercising was not something I enjoyed doing. In fact, I can say that I hated exercise.
My dislike for exercise dated back to grade school. I was never good at any of the sports we played in gym class. I was picked last for every team. When I was up at bat during baseball games, the outfielders would all take a few giant steps forward, expecting that I wouldn't be able to hit the ball very far (they were right). Soon, I learned a trick to get out of gym class. I would tell my teacher, a man in his mid 20s, that I had horrible menstrual cramps and couldn't play. He would get visibly uncomfortable and tell me to go sit down on the bench. It's funny that he never questioned the fact that I had my period for a good three weeks out of the month. I got through junior high school doing as little exercise as possible.
By the time high school rolled around, my period excuse didn't work anymore. I had one of those grumpy, drill sergeant types of coaches who didn't want to hear any of my sissy excuses as to why I couldn't play. So, I had no choice but to suffer daily humiliation. I was the only kid in class that couldn't run a mile under 12 minutes. I could never get up that darn rope we were supposed to climb. I can't tell you how many times I was hit in the face with basketballs, hockey pucks and even ping-pong balls, because I hadn't learned the art of getting out of the way of a moving object.
Sadly enough, I couldn't find even one sport at which I was halfway successful. I wasn't even able master square dancing! I would trip over my own feet. I managed to pass gym class with a very low C and was glad to be done with it. My high school experience cemented my hatred for exercise and my belief that I wasn't cut out to be an athlete. Besides being uncoordinated, my fear of looking stupid out-weighed any desire I had to try to excel at a sport. I figured I was a lost cause.
As the years went by, I managed to avoid exercise as much as possible. As my weight crept up during my first pregnancy, my obstetrician suggested that I start doing some light exercise. He must have seen the look of horror on my face because he never brought it up again.
After having my second baby, I was smacked in the face with a dose of reality. While going through the application process to get a new life insurance policy, I was given a higher rate because of my weight. That is when it really hit me that being overweight was more than just feeling bad about the way I looked; it would one day affect my health. The insurance company saw my weight as a risk. That scared me.
As much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew that I had to exercise to lose the weight. My very first attempt at exercise since my high school humiliation was step aerobics. I went out to my local Walmart and bought a video and a step. I thought it wouldn't be too hard; you step up and then you step down. I could handle that. As soon as I got home, I popped the tape into the VCR. I tried to keep up with the video, but ended up quitting in frustration. I had no idea what a V step was! I couldn't even step up on the thing without feeling like I was going to fall off, let alone do any fancy moves on it! Disappointed, I retreated my favorite spot on the couch with a bag of potato chips.
During one of my channel surfing sessions, I caught the end of a Tae-Bo infomercial. I thought the exercise, which combined Tae Kwon do, boxing and aerobics, looked like fun. I am still not sure why I did it, but I ordered the tapes. They arrived a few weeks later. I still remember the first time I nervously put the instructional tape into the VCR. I had already decided not to expect too much. After all, exercise wasn't my thing. I knew I probably wouldn't be any better at this than I was at step aerobics or baseball, or any of the other activities I had failed miserably at in my lifetime.
I was very surprised and proud when I made it through the whole tape. Tae-Bo was hard, but it was actually a lot of fun. That was the first time I enjoyed doing something that resulted in sweat. I wasn't very good at it, but I listened to Billy Blanks preach at me through my TV screen to work at my own pace. I kept at it, week after week, and found myself getting better with each session.
After two years of Tae-Bo, which resulted in a 95-pound weight loss, I have found the confidence to try other exercises. I have started running with the hopes of completing a marathon one day. I have joined a gym and started taking kickboxing classes and lifting weights. The changes in my body have been amazing, but the changes in my self-confidence and self-esteem have been even more incredible. I am no longer afraid of exercise. I am not afraid of looking stupid or tripping over my own two feet. I went from doing anything humanly possible to avoid exercise to actually loving it! I have discovered that exercise can be a lot of fun if you find an activity you like to do and have the patience to develop your skills.
There are so many things I want to try now that I never had the confidence to try before. A few of the things on my "to do" list include running a marathon, learning a martial art and taking up rock climbing. It took some time, but I found my inner athlete. The funny thing is that she was there all along; she just needed the courage to come out.
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