Proud of the class

I am reading the student's blogs and so many of them have reached their goals or at least came darn close. I am proud of all of them. So many took this seriously and really tried to make positive changes in their lives. It has been really powerful to read about their journeys.

I am not so proud of myself though. I wanted to be so much further along the road to healthy. I have made some progress. I am definitely working out more and more intensely than I have in years now. But my body just doesn't feel like me. I don't feel strong or capable and I haven't felt that way in so long now. I miss it. I took it for granted when I felt well.

Last week and this week have been pretty good in terms of workouts. Yesterday's workout which started out super tough was abruptly cut short when my running partner fell and broke her wrist. IT SUCKED!! She is so tough though. She didn't cry or whimper or anything. She just said "hmmm yup that looks broken". And she is 11 weeks pregnant with her third child. She is okay but will be in a splint for awhile.

I plan on working out tomorrow after class and then Thursday and Friday and Saturday will be at the gym.

I will miss the student's blogs. They have been such help and inspiration.

You know mostly I am going to miss the students in this class. They are all amazing individuals.

Goals refined

My adventures in trying to reclaim my life continue.

Finally strangely even though I have been under insane amounts of stress lately, I feel more balanced and more productive. In the last two weeks I have been working out about 4 times a week better than I have been doing in years. My professional life is doing better too.

I went to the gym on Friday afternoon last week after a long meeting and saw a team of personal trainers training for THE MUD RUN. I took a photo but it doesn't capture at all the intensity of their workout. Each one was at a station and after 3 minutes they would change. They were bench pressing crazy amounts of weight, doing this weird variation on burpees, lifting medicine balls, and all of them were in great shape & were dripping in sweat.

I was on the treadmill alternating between jogging and walking quickly up steep hills (6 to 10% incline). I had been proud of myself and then when I saw them working out, I got freaked.

My brother, the great motivator that he is, has been yelling at me to run more dammit cause he wants to do well. At one point in February I thought I can get back into shape by June, maybe I can do well in this race.

Then somewhere in March I decided that I just want to finish without throwing up.

Now I don't care if I throw up on myself or on an innocent bystander or two, I just want to finish.