Gym Date

Woke up this morning with a 2.9 low blood sugar, low enough that I couldn't feel part of my face. Had a gym date. Most days I'd go back to sleep, exhausted. I was exhausted. I hadn't slept, thinking about my insecurities in preparation for joining the gym; thinking about the lows I'd have to fight, the way I would feel clumsy, the way I probably wouldn't lose the weight I'm desperate to. Last night I stared up through the skylight in my bedroom, up toward one fantastically bright object. A planet, staring back at me; a heavenly body as far away from me as I feel from my own. I could have gone back to bed. But today?

Screw you, body, I'm not going to let you beat me.

Stuffed yogurt-covered cranberries in my face, leveled out a bit and was out the door. Made it to the bizarrely named Body Pump and got through the hour; first time in the class, so of course there's a learning curve and I'm at the bottom of it. Swallowed my pride and did the starter weights. Stuck it out even when I felt I had no idea what I was doing.

Screw you, body, I'm not going to let you beat me.

Then did an hour of "Body Flow," an odd yoga amalgam, but faster. Got progressively more frustrated at the increasing weakness and remaining pain in my still-crippled elbow half made of metal, until I heard an audible pop. Pulled it together and did NOT curse audibly in yoga class. Namaste. Finished the class even after my arm gave way and sent me crashing to the ground with a snap and a twinge. I got back up, trying to meditate through tears. My meditation was a little unorthodox:

Screw you, body, I'm not going to let you beat me. 

Class over. My commitment to the day was done. I could have gone home immediately with my tail between my legs. But I was so frustrated with my crippled self that I felt I needed to keep moving, keep pushing. I decided to run it out. So after two hour-long classes, I ran two miles on the elliptical, one in 8:55, which might very well be a (admittedly still crappy) personal best. I walked out of the gym with my head held high.

My arm still hurts, but...

Screw you, body, because today I beat YOU.

I have to do it again tomorrow.

-Ilana