I'm back! (FBtF)

For those of you that know me, you know that i'm a hardcore health nut. I'm a certified personal trainer. I love, love, LOVE working out--the more difficult, the better. It gives me a huge rush to be able to do a workout, or an exercise, that I couldn't do before. So, when this whole 'cancer' crap happened, THAT part of me--the part that knew I wouldn't be able to exercise for a while--got hit the hardest. It seriously made me want to cry. THAT part of me, is a huge part of who I am--it makes me happy, keeps me sane, and as a bonus, keeps me in shape and healthy (except for cancer--go figure).

I haven't been able to really work out since November. I had a biopsy gone bad, then a few weeks later another biopsy, then, to be honest, I just gave up on myself. I was irritated with cancer and felt that I didn't want to invest any more of my time in our gym if I was just going to have to give it all up after the masectomy. In retrospect, i was being a huge wuss. I'm of the "Go all in, or don't bother" camp. I love HIIT. I love pushups and pullups and heavy weights and cardio 'til I puke. I love eating clean and baking cookies and testing myself to see if I can make it without eating any. So...when I stopped working out and then found out that I was UNABLE to, my mind did something it hasn't done in years: It said, "FUCK IT." From November until today, I seriously used that term in my head. Repeatedly. 

This past Saturday, I got a Facebook DM from the CEO of Beachbody, Carl Daikeler (thanks for the shakes, my dude). He told me, "Keep living smart: What you eat (and DON'T eat) is as important as anything. Don't let this define you in any way. I know it's a very big deal, but I think some people let it define them. They become "survivor" - almost like they refuse to move on from the trauma... You have more going for you than that, and while this is part of your story, you are showing everyone that it is going to be a minor part... WELL DONE!!!!"  I needed to hear that. Then earlier today, I paid a housecall to one of my friends. She asked me this past weekend if I'd measure her body fat with my calipers. I said okay...but in my mind, I felt horrible. I mean, i'm pretty close to what I would consider my elite weight, but i am NOT in my 'elite' shape (I'm 'skinny fat' right now). Not by any means. I've lost so much muscle during this process, that I look at my arms and want to cry. ANYWAYS, I sucked it up, went over there this morning, and calipered. And...something happened. That spark that I love came back. My bad word mentality popped up and I heard it, then I said, "FUCK YOU"  to my brain.

I came home, and I answered some emails, and I looked at my 'training' page--to the women that come to me for advice on their fitness and health, and my brain didn't say a damn thing. So I went into my home gym. I looked at my yoga mat. I found my weight balls, my bands, my ankle weights. I looked at all my weights on the rack. And my brain started to speak up, and I said, "Shut the hell up." And then my 25lbs weights looked at me and said, "You can't even do lawnmowers any more." I told THEM to "Shut the hell up," too.

And I put on my shoes, and I put a red band around my ankles, and i picked up my 3lb weights and introduced myself to them. Then I popped in my earbuds and started doing side squats...with my wee, 3lb weights. And even though they're light, it felt good. Then my mind started in with, "You're a wuss. Grab the 15s." And I'm totally proud of myself (or maybe i'm just afraid of the wrath of my doctor) but I said, "Screw you. The 3's and I are building a relationship." So I squatted. And I squatted Then I squatted some more. And my freaking legs were on fire. And it was awesome.

Then I decided to try abs. That's tricky...a lot of your upper abs are directly associated with the bottom of your rib cage, which, when you have hard-as-a-rock tissue expanders, makes that area of your body really, really sore. But sometimes, sore just needs to be stretched. Gently. So, I got on my yoga mat and sat in an A-frame position. And I proceeded to do mason twists and A-frames for an entire song. Then a little bit longer. And it was awesome.

When I was doing lunge presses (get in a really deep lunge--one foot out in front, one way behind you--get up on your toes, and start dipping), I started to get all choked up and teary-eyed. I was just SO HAPPY to be able to treat my body like that again. And I had a thought:

I get to start from square 1. I can build up and be even BETTER than I was before.
A new challenge.

And you guys KNOW I love me a challenge.

So get ready, world. I can do whatever the hell I want. And my mind can't stop me. I'm back. (Just with more body fat and extremely hard boobies.)