All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know. ~ Ernest Hemingway
This is not the post I’ve been trying for three days to write. But that’s ok. Because it’s the truest thing I know.
My trainer/best friend and I got into what we call a “talking in capital letters” discussion. Uhem. He asserted (and for the record, he’s not wrong…) that the changes I’ve made have saved my life—and “you’re not telling anyone. You’re keeping it to your own damn self.” He was referencing the fact that I’ve lost 100 pounds, and finally learned to eat, and learned how to train in a way that keeps me safe but still pushes me toward my goals. He was referencing the fact that I was 250 pounds of sad, depressed waddle, the fact that I couldn’t walk more than a block without having to rest, the fact that I’d destroyed my knees and couldn’t do much without a lot of pain, the fact that I would never talk about having a baby with my husband because I’d be a high risk pregnancy, the fact that I was so tired by ten a.m. everyday just from carrying my body around that I couldn’t do my job.
No, he wasn’t wrong. To my credit, I had the sense to not argue back.
But I did have a “hits too close to home for comfort” realization, and it came out of my mouth before I could do anything about it. He made the point that people want to have the body—whether they can say it out loud or not, people want to be comfortable in their skin. He said, “Kim, people want what you have.” My gut reaction response was to say “Sure, I’ll give you that. But they don’t want to do what I did. Hell, I didn’t want to do what I did. Some days I still don’t.” I tried to cover my mouth and stuff those words back in, but I’d already named a very real truth.
I tell people that doing this has been the best thing I’ve ever done, but also the absolute hardest. It’s saved my life, and I love the strong, fit person I am still becoming. I don’t regret it in any form or fashion. But I also recognize that it’s taken more than I even knew how to imagine when I started. (And this is not what this post is about, but it needs to be said again. There is no way I could have done this on my own. I had a great trainer who wouldn’t let me quit, and cheerleaders that made all the difference. If you don’t have these people, seriously, find some.)
I’ve finally realized (and I’m still a work in progress!) that it boils down to one thing: How bad(ly) do you want it?
Do you want it enough to keep after it, day after day, even when the scale stops moving or progress feels stalled?
Do you want it enough to keep setting the bar higher and higher?
Do you want it enough to keep getting out of your comfort zone?
Do you want it enough to make yourself a priority, even when everyone and everything else is trying to pull you away from your goal?
Do you want it enough to make sacrifices of valuable time and energy?
Do you want it enough to squash your pride and let people help you get there?
Do you want it enough to refuse to take no for an answer?
Do you want it enough to leave your excuses, even the ones that have become precious?
Do you want it enough to power through set backs?
Do you want it enough to chose positivity and optimism and fearlessness, even when negatives are trying desperately to rent space in your head?
Do you want it enough to banish “can’t” from your vocabulary?
Do you want it enough that you’re willing to be inconvenienced?
Do you want it enough to realize that sometimes you, and the BS story you tell yourself, is the biggest thing standing in your way?
Some days I have enough energy, motivation, and mojo to shout “Yes!” as I do a victory dance around the gym. But much more often, it’s like one of the days my trainer taught me a lesson. I was whining. So he gave me a tougher program on the bike to prove a point. He said, “I don’t want to see your butt leave this bike until you’ve done this. Put your head down, and get through it. I don’t want to see your face come up until you have.” And I did, shaky and spent, dripping with sweat, and pissed off from having to work so hard, I kept pushing forward.
Hey, all it takes is all you got. And a grit that just won’t quit.
How bad(ly) do want it?