The Goal – Week 37

Sometimes I have no idea what I am going to write about.  Sometimes I am sure that I will never again have any inspiration to write another post. You see if you are failing miserably at trying to lose weight, there is tons of stuff to write (whine) about.  If you are succeeding and losing massive poundage, that also gives you a thing or two to share.  But if you are just plodding along going to workout and eating on the plan of your choice while still losing weight at approximately the rate of a turtle 5k?  Well let’s just say I’m not inspired toward any brilliant revelations on a daily basis.

It was on such a day that I ended up flat on my butt in the gym.

My first reaction to this  tumble was hysterical laughter.  Once Jen realized that nothing except my pride had been damaged in the fall, she said “I see a blog post outta this!”  Of course I was having the same thought.  My biggest regret is that there isn’t a youtube video to go with it.

Here’s how it happened.

I walked into the gym.  It was a normal Tuesday morning.  And by normal I mean that I walked in and immediately began to assess the equipment set up and see which exercises to dread.  Circuit class usually goes down like this : 10 minute warm up on the spin bike, 5 -7 circuit exercises done 2 to 4 times with more spin bike or treadmill in between.

As I headed to my bike, I saw it.

A jump rope.

A long black heinous looking jump rope coiled in the floor.

I began to pedal my bike and my mind went into overdrive.

There is no way she is going to make me jump rope.

Do I seriously pay for this?

What I am I doing here?  Training for a prize fight?

I didn’t fake my period for 4 years in high school to skip gym class just to start jumping rope at 40.

I’ve never been diagnosed with a problem but I bet my knees are almost bad and all that jumping can’t be good for them.

This inner diatribe went on for the full ten minute warm up.  And guess where it all came from?

Fear

I was scared to even try to jump rope because I just assumed I could not do it.  (In case you are new to me, let me be clear, I AM NOT A FAN OF JUMPING UP AND DOWN FOR ANY REASON!)  I never jumped rope as a child, I was always the kid holding one end of the rope for other people.

Excuse time was over and I picked up the rope.  Tried skipping it.  Got tangled in the blasted thing.  Tried jumping with both feet and…

down like a ton of bricks.  (Ok, perhaps not a ton…)

It didn’t hurt.  I wasn’t damaged.  I can’t even truthfully tell you that my pride was injured.  I fall, trip, etc quite a bit.  It’s God’s way of keeping me humble I suppose.

I got back up and attempted it again.  I stayed on my feet this time which was progress to be sure.  I’d love to tell you that by the end of the workout, I was skipping that rope like Mike Tyson on Red Bull.  But ya’ll, come on.  You know it didn’t go down that way.  I flubbed my way through 4 rounds and only fell once.  I actually even jumped it a few times.

I realized how often I use my mind as a weapon instead of a tool.  The first thing I thought in regards to that challenge was “I can’t jump rope.”  The funny thing is I said the same thing the first time Jen asked (told) me to do a plank.  “What even is this tortuous exercise? Was it developed by Al Qaeda?” I screeched.  One year later, I plank with very little protest or bad words.  For 40 years I have told anyone who will listen that I can’t do a real push up.  I was the most disciplined person in high school marching band specifically so I would never get in trouble and have to do a set of push ups.  Wanna know something crazy?  Now I can do 4.  And look, I highly doubt that Shape magazine is going to do a cover story anytime soon about me and my plank & 4 push ups (although, c’mon, they totally should!)

I’m far too much of a pessimist to start assuming “I CAN!” about every little thing in my life.  But I think I’m going to start working on turning “I can’t” into “I can’t yet.”