In spinning I catch myself in the mirror and it's obvious that I'm bigger than the other women, I am not lithe and slender and aerodynamic, my shoulders are broad and my traps are large and my biceps flare. I am here not for some magic weight loss pill but to see what my body can do. Some days I take two classes in a row, just to see if I can. Tevia, our instructor, is a jewish lesbian in her 40s who has MS but who can kick anyone's ass in the entire place reminds us to pull ourselves back, to lift each pedalstroke into our gut, because our gut is where everything comes from. While it's trendy in the fitness arena to talk about working one's core, she's not just talking about having strong abs. She reminds us that what we do in class is how we deal with life outside of class, and it's not about what we look like but what we do with it. I remind myself that I'm here to work, I'm here for the challenge, I'm here to see if I can just push myself a little farther.
After class, we hop off the bikes to stretch, and as I reach my fingers past my toes, I feel my gut, the one that got me through my workout, the one that held me up and stable as I spun, spilling out over the top of my waistband.
Ugh.
As we finish up and wipe down our bikes, I think about what's just happened. I think that it's rare that we take every opportunity that life presents us, but somehow we're able to take every single opportunity that comes up to put our physical selves down. Our ass is too big and our thighs are too jiggly and our hips are too wide and our boobs are too saggy and our foreheads are too lined.
Five years ago I was 141 pounds and 17.5% bodyfat. I was also working myself into the ground. Lifting and running and sprinting and living off 800 calories a day of protein shakes. Just to see if I could. I still wasn't small back then, I wasn't slender or lithe but instead all powerful quads and cut shoulders and visible abs. My boyfriend at the time, a well-known diet and workout guru, finally took me aside and said you have to stop, you're going to go crazy. And I did, although I was able to maintain my level of fitness until the undiagnosed thyroid issue/surgery. relationship problems sent me into a two year crash and burn where the weight piled back on and it wasn't that I didn't care, it was that I didn't care to do anything.
I've preached body acceptance and self-love (not that kind of self-love, although I am a fan...) for ages now, but I've felt like somewhat of a hypocrite, as for the past couple of years I haven't been able to be so kind to myself. It was easy to play the trifecta of failed relationship-failed career-failed body. I wallowed in that for a good long while, and then this year I decided that it was time to stop complaining and start doing. But this time I was going to handle it a bit differently, walking the fine line of trying to both accept my body and change it. I would push myself but I wouldn't punish myself for not being perfect. It wasn't about looking good in a wedding dress (after all, it already fits and looks fine), it was about getting my head and my heart back into shape.
It's a weird transition to think less about what your body looks like and more about what it can do. I know that my body can handle eight classes (twice on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, once on Tuesday and Thursday) a week. But it's going to take my brain a little time to catch up.
Last week, before last Thursday night's class I took photos in my mirror (the evil one) to track my progress. I was going to put them up to shame me into continuing with my workouts except that I don't need to be shamed into doing so. Tevia's right. It doesn't matter if it spills over my waistband or reveals a perfectly cut six-pack, my gut has everything I need to get me through anything.
So this is my before and after photo. No shame at'all.
