I had this totally epic workout the other day. I was on fire. I felt really good about it except my crotchety old knee was pretty upset. It didn’t hurt really, it was just sore and very weak.
I took yesterday off completely and I’m glad I did. The last thing I wanted out of this challenge was an injury. I was worried I would feel guilty, or that I had let myself down, but I had to remember that my body can’t heal properly without rest, and just like those three days I had off with the flu, I would have to take a time out and make sure I was really recovered before I jumped back in. Well, maybe not jumping, not right away anyway.
So how do I feel then… 30 days later… I have faced so many challenges over the last year. Big ones. I took on a course via distance delivery and juggled it with the rest of my life and managed to complete it and do really well. I wrote the GED exam and really blew myself away with the results. And I survived a really intimidating “all by my big-girl self” adventure where I had to drive the horrible shitty winter highway to the big city and find my way around and write the entrance exams for my new career. I shut the door on some relationships that were unhealthy (mostly including the ass-kissing I had to do to placate my in-laws), and I’ve redefined, with some success, the expectations of my marriage.
This year I faced down my fear and low self esteem. The gloves came off and I stepped up into the face of the monster. And I headbutted that motherfucker right in the nose.
In a sense, that was the longest 30 days EVER. And in the blink of an eye, I realize it’s no more than a drop in the bucket. There was a tiny part of me that wanted to think I’d be totally shredded and ready to jump into a bikini in only a month- but I read too many checkout-line magazines 😀 ….maybe 30 more days…
I look in the mirror now and instead of seeing a hopelessly fat chick with very sad eyes, I see a woman well on her way to amazing.