Out of the Closet

Wow, today was hard.

Monday runs are usually full of energy after two days off, so that was okay. But it was legs day, and after box jumps while wearing ankle weights and holding a 10-lb medicine ball, then 135-lb BOSU ball squats at the mercy of Awesome who refused to count reps that didn't break the plane (I did number 8 about four times...), then about a kazillion walking lunges and then 250 lbs on the leg press....I am beat. But I like knowing that I can squat more than my body weight. Okay, so only half a pound more, but still more. :)

My training is going well. Nutrition is great these days - it feels so good to eat clean, healthy, purposeful foods. Workouts are fantastic - Captain Awesome is getting tough and I am working harder than ever. I'm seeing the results and I feel great. And even more importantly, I am having a blast. It is so much fun to push myself to new limits and be rewarded for that effort. I am finally getting to a point in my life where regardless of how the numbers come out when I step on the scale or test my body composition, I know that the way I am living is the way I want to be forever.

And, I am glad to be "out". It catches me off-guard sometimes when people who have known me a long time are suprised by this endeavor. It's been a goal of mine for as long as I can remember, but I forget that I didn't start talking about it until relatively recently.

So this weekend when my mom commented that she was suprised I was so into this hobby, I was reminded that while this has always been on my mind, it is relatively new to everyone else I know. I was never athletic as a kid and shunned sports in favor of writing, theatre, music, and reaching new levels of brooding sarcasm. So to hear me talk about jumping hurdles and climbing rope walls is a little out of context for the rest of my family. I think they half expected me to teach history in a college somewhere and write scathing letters to the editor of the local paper pointing out grammatical errors for the rest of my life.

And that would also be fun. But no, I want to be a bodybuilder.

And the only explanation I can come up with is that this goal is hard, and the things people are used to me doing are easy. I write every day and love it, but it is more of a therapeutic puzzle than a challenge. Music and theatre were fun, but I didn't feel driven to become really good at them. As for brooding sarcasm and snark, well, I'll never be able to give those up.

But weightlifting is hard. Training is hard. Pushing myself to new physical limits is hard. Doing things that are difficult make me feel more alive, and that's how I feel when I work out. When I leave the gym and haven't completely exhausted myself, I am frustrated and disappointed. If I don't doubt my ability to drive home from the gym, I'm probably going to have a mediocre day.

There is a certain level of apprehension about being this open about my goal, the most obvious being that if I fail, more people know about it. But it also feels good to be "out". So... hi. I'm Heather, and I might not be what you expected.