We see a tired grip and rope burns. They see Tarzan swinging through the jungle.
We see a torture chamber. They see a playground.
Fitness isn’t the only thing lost with age.
(Be forewarned, this one rambles a bit.)
There is a lot of introspection happening in my world lately. Much of the time, over this past fall, it has been taken up by could haves. This month…this month is different.
Now could be is pounding a refrain in my head.
I have always been interested in motivation, in what drives a person to do what they do? What internal or external trigger is making this person jump off the cliff or this other buckle down and tackle the climb again and again and again. Is this something you are born with or is it something that can be taught? Is success contingent on talent? work ethic? aggression? What is the motivation? What makes the difference?
I have no clue if I will ever find the answers to these questions. The more I ask, the more new questions seem to spawn from the answers.
The one thing I have found is that motivation in largely dependent on emotional investment. Dreams, desire, want and perceived need play huge roles in whether or not a person will go after their dream and just how hard they will try.
Lately I have found myself filling page after page of my journal with my personal wants and desires. It certainly didn’t feel that way when I was in the middle of the worst of my depression. In the beginning it was more like why why why is this happening when I wanted this to happen!
Slowly, as the move and the sale of house and gym came to pass, I used my writing to imagine what that very day would look like in a perfect world: we would have x number of boxes packed, the kids would be little angels and the dogs wouldn’t throw up on the freshly steam-cleaned carpets. Then the writing graduated to how that week would go or that trip (Disney World does not allow for depression!) or it would go off on a tangent about dreams remembered.
I guess that is when the trigger hit for me. Dreams remembered. Why did I forget them? Why did I leave them and put my effort into the one I had just seen crumble around me? I still don’t have the answer to those questions, but that process of writing, writing, writing without internal censorship or editing has done far more to anchor me than anything else I have done.
I am also realizing that I am a far different person now than before I had the gym. Opening a CrossFit gym was a gigantic leap of faith…in myself. It was by far the most exciting/terrifying thing I have ever done and I cannot regret a moment of it. Now, I look back at past, unaccomplished goals and I wonder what the hell I was so scared of? I also wonder, what’s stopping me now.
For me? That would be F-O-O-D.
I have a deep and abiding emotional, co-dependent, love/hate relationship with food.
As a trainer I understand that food is the foundation of our physical begin. It is both fuel and mortar for our bodies. Eighty percent of your health is dictated by what you put into your mouth. Eat with the intention of fueling performance and you will create a the body you want. You put in crap, and, yeah, that’s exactly what you get.
For me, and I know for many others, food goes much deeper than that. Food is comfort and escape and feeling good for just a little while. Food is an expression of love in what we cook for our families. Food is joy.
Food is not meant to be any of that.
I know that, as a trainer and a mother and an athlete. This is a struggle that I want to be rid of! I know what it is like to feed my body to achieve a goal. I am ready for that again. I am ready to create the life I want, the body I want, the dreams I desire.
Sometimes, to start, you just need to Start. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time. It is good to have a path. It is important to know where you want to go. Even if it’s just the general direction. The problem I am having with that is I have absolutely no idea where I want that path to go.
I opened a CrossFit gym. I built a community of athletes that supported, pushed, challenged and taught me more about myself than anything in the world. I got to run a business with my husband, sharing long hours and deep personal commitment to my dream with the person who has been my rock for more than ten years. And then I let it go (the business, not the marriage.)
The only constant in life is change.
I have celebrated and grieved in 2011 as I never have before. I fell off the Clean/Paleo wagon with a thump, eating my way through the selling of business and home, packing and moving. I escaped into the worlds of novels, blunting my shock and depression with fictionalized alternate lives. I am OK with this. Physical escape was not an option, and sometimes you have to step back by any means necessary to find yourself again.
I admit to being rather lost now. “What do you want to do with your life?” is a question that I already thought I had answered. Now the path feels rather muddled.
I wish very much that this post were a RA-RA-SIS-BOOM-BA post about the amazing resolutions and accomplishments I have for this year. It’s not. No. this is a post were I am just going to start putting one foot in front of the other. My only resolution this year is to open myself to any and all possibilities out there.
And this place? Here is where I will write…or not. This is where I can take some baby steps and clear some cobwebs. I am writing here for me. I have cleared the past posts off this blog to create a blank slate. I do not want to look backwards.
The things I do know are:
I will write.
I will be grateful for my husband and children and the relationships that are created in my life.
I will explore all possibilities.
I will continue to help others where and when I can (even if it is only by relaying my own foibles.)
I will heal, emotionally, mentally, and physically. Whole.
I will dream.
Enough of the wallowing. Time to step forward.