Photo by Jason Briscoe
Growing up, I never really played sports. But to this day, one of the first questions people ask me is, "What sports did you play growing up?" I've always felt embarrassed saying none... or sometimes I'll blame the fact that I didn't play sports on moving to a few different high schools. But frankly, I think I was just scared to try.
One of my first memories doing something active was when I played co-ed flag football in the 1st or 2nd grade. Because I was taller, they generally put me up against a boy. I remember feeling nervous and scared as I looked this particular boy in the eye, knowing that he was ready to clobber me as soon as he had the chance. When they yelled, "Hike!", the boy pushed me so hard, I fell back hitting my head against the ground. I laid there stunned, in pain, and crying. I didn't want to get up. My head was throbbing and I was embarrassed that I cried in front of all the kids and parents. My dad came to rescue me off the field and brought me over to the sidelines to comfort me. I never returned to the game, but at the end of the season, I still received my participation trophy.
Later on, in the 3rd or 4th grade, we had to run around the track for P.E. It was a short, dirt track... maybe a 1/4 mile. I remember feeling this expectation that I was supposed to be fast. Given my height, there was often an expectation that I should be naturally great at sports. But as they started us off, I watched these kids one by one run past me as I fell further and further behind. I pushed myself to run faster and harder, the air burning in my lungs. I remember feeling scared as I felt my throat closing up on me and getting air became increasingly difficult. By the end of the track, I was gasping for air, hunched over, and panicked. A teacher came over to me with a paper bag, sat me on the bench and talked me through breathing in slow and deep. As the minutes past, I was able to breathe freely again, but was terrified and embarrassed.
There have been countless memories like this over the years. Where I tried, panicked, and failed. It's been easier to just not try at all. But deep down, I still wish I were strong and capable of pushing myself to climb a difficult trail, run a mile, or do a pull up. I still struggle to attempt exercise or sports today. I wrestle with this fear of failure and these memories of feeling scared and ashamed.
After having Soren, like any new mom, I've wanted to get in shape. That's what you're "supposed" to do after having a kid. Get rid of all that baby weight as fast as possible! But day after day, as I thought about it, I'd find something else I needed to do. Pump, change a diaper, wash dishes. "Get up at 5am and workout, Regina!" Sounds good... but when the baby is still waking 1-2 times a night, I'd rather just be a little pudgy here and there. I'm much more snugly this way! So many excuses. But as my body aches and pains increase, I know it's time. If not for me, for my sweet Soren and family.
This morning, I started a workout. 4 circuits, 7 minutes each, 30-90 second breaks in between. Sounds pretty simple, right? Not for me! It hurt... a lot. The whole time I was thinking of ways I could cheat each set. I didn't, but I wanted to. As I came to the last round, I was dizzy. I could feel myself starting to panic. Clearly, this is my body telling me to quit, right? Right??? UGH, I didn't. I tossed the recommended times aside, and kept going. I started talking out loud to myself, "I'm doing this for me... I'm doing this for Soren... I'm doing this for my husband. I'm going to be strong... I'm going to be healthy... I'm not going to quit." I felt like a dork, but I needed something to keep me going. And, F those Spotify commercials that were cramping my jam! But alas, I did that last set of 50 mountain climbers and finished.
Why am I sharing all this??? Because I'm attempting anything that will keep me motivated to continue. I don't really think you care lol. I just know tomorrow, I will wake up, go to work in an outfit that will hide my "cute" squooshes, and find a million good excuses not to do it all over again. My legs will probably be giving out underneath me, and even walking to the bathroom will be a challenge. But I'll come home, and attempt the seemingly impossible. I'll fight all the internal dialogue all over again. My hope is, I'll start my workout, want to die, proclaim the dorky meditations all over again, and repeat until this becomes a natural part of my life. Until Soren can look at mommy and attempt the seemingly impossible with me... and then one day, we can attempt the seemingly impossible together as a family, and all this fear and angst will be a thing of the past. So, with that... here goes nothin'! #struggleisreal
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