Sometimes I have things planned out to write about. Today was one of those days where I had something totally different scheduled but when I read this post called “of tiny pink dumbbells and fat chicks” I felt inspired to write something totally different. So here we go…
when i first started trying to lose weight i thought i could just drop the weight and be done with it. i’d be a before and after. i’d have one of those wildly successful blogs where i shared all my secrets. i’d get to my “goal weight” and then be able to eat whatever i want and live happily ever after.
i thought there would be a quick fix. Especially after being diagnosed with Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis I was certain I’d get on medication and the weight would fall off. I thought that if i could just lose the weight i’d be happier. better. prettier. i started running and loved the feeling of accomplishment it gave me. i loved seeing my times improve.
the weight didn’t come off quickly. i ran into frustration A LOT. i gave up often. i ate my feelings. “well if the weight isn’t just going to fall off then i might as well eat whatever i want anyway…” and so the cycle continued. I would work hard and see results for a week or two and then plateau and give up again. at this point i was chasing a number on the scale.
but then something changed when i found CrossFit. I had already lost a good 25lbs or so on my own and i was proud of that. but i still felt like i was starting from scratch. i had ZERO strength. like at all. I remember having to use two huge assistance bands and have my coach push up on my foot just to do a pull up. Doing any kind of weightlifting was intimidating, just the bar seemed SO heavy. but I kept at it. For over a year straight I got up at 4:15am nearly every morning to make it to the 5am class. I scaled WODs, cried during WODs, bled during WODs, and was often the last to finish. but I never once thought about giving up.
somewhere in between the blood, sweat, & tears it wasn’t just about being a before and after. I wasn’t chasing a body type or a number on the scale. My “end goal” of being 175lbs and a size 12 changed. Carrie explained it best in her post
There is no absolute success in lifting and fitness. It is a progression. Success means continuing to move toward a continually moving target.
Suddenly all my goals became moving targets. I wanted to get over 100lb deadlift (my max is currently 235lbs now!) but once I hit 100 I wanted 105… and on and on. I’m constantly thinking about how I can make myself better. I celebrate the victories, but I’m always striving for more.
When I started this journey I was happy my mile time was under 20 minutes. Now i’m somewhere around 11 minutes (it’s been awhile since I’ve run a mile…)
I’ve put in the sweat and tears and time. I know that I am the fittest I’ve ever been. I have killer endurance. I can lift moderately heavy. I am strong. But you may not be able to guess that if you were to look at me without knowing my story. I weigh 183lbs, still above average for my height. I am a size 12/14/16 (depending on the brand, stupid designers). I’m not what most people expect to be a CrossFit owner/coach. Look at my body and you might think I’m still that chubby girl, but put a barbell in my hands and start that clock and I’ll surprise you. This didn’t happen overnight. There is no 30 day fix. It came from years of hard work and discipline. Hours upon hours in the gym, even more hours in the kitchen.
And so here I am owning my journey, every glorious mountain top and valley of despair. Every euphoric PR and every “Why am I even trying?!”
This is my journey.
Sometimes I forget that. When I see people effortlessly lift the weight I’ve been struggling to get, when people lose body fat twice as fast as I do… I fail to remember that their journey is not mine. I don’t know what they have been through to get where they are. I don’t know what struggles they have faced and overcome. Their journey is different. And that’s ok.
So, next time you see someone and are tempted to pass judgement remember that you may not see the whole story.
And next time you may be the one being judged, remember they don’t know your journey.
Sometimes I wish life had a pause button. Or an extra day in the week. Or both. There should be a weekend for relaxing, then a buffer day, then the work week. How do we make that happen?
To be honest, these last few months have been a blur. I have a tendency to get caught up in busyness and forget to ENJOY. The house needs cleaned, homework needs to be done, laundry needs to be washed (folded and put away), working 40ish hours a week, planning healthy meals, grocery shopping, working out, blogging/social media to keep up with… and the list goes on. At the end of the day I climb into bed exhausted, and feeling let down that I didn’t get it all done. Apparently, in my mind I’m Wonder Woman.
The truth is, I’m not Wonder Woman (shocker, I know). And I can’t do it all. So I live with the sticky floor I spilled coffee creamer on last week and still haven’t mopped… and the clothes in the dryer that I have turned on “touch up” 5 times because I didn’t have time to fold them…. the late nights of finishing school assignments just before deadlines…. the random meals I throw together because I haven’t been shopping… and the early mornings because it’s the only time I can get a workout in… and the toys all over my floor that I am boycotting picking up for the gazillionth time… the sheets I don’t wash enough…. the toilet I don’t clean enough…and the fact that my kid watches too much tv…
and i realize that i may not be perfect…. but that’s ok.
i am me. i am still learning. i have an amazing husband, who supports me whole heartedly. and deals with my emotions and break downs. and loves me despite it all.
and i have been blessed to have a daughter who has such a joy and zest for life. she is curious, smart, talkative, friendly, and compassionate and has taught me more than I feel like I can ever teach her…
i’m sure i’m still going to have days that i expect too much of myself and feel let down when i don’t get it all done.
i’ll have melt downs.
and cry over spilt creamer (true story… you don’t have to cry over spilt milk… but coffee creamer is way more expensive than milk!)
but at the end of the day, i know that i am doing ok.
and i’m ok with that.
Do you struggle with trying to do it all? Any tips?