There goes a fighter....

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Let me preface this post by saying I don't exercise.  I don't eat right.  The only time I run is when someone is bleeding and/or on fire. 

Now, I take that all back. 

A few months ago one of my best friends asked me to take part in a local 'boot camp'.  After much whining about how I don't exercise as it's not what I do, it's not who I am, I went ahead and went.  That first night I wanted to die.  I was drenched in sweat, huffing & puffing, and wanting to crawl in the nearest hole and die.  The next day I literally ached everywhere.  I can remember verbalizing to everyone within ear shot (and some that weren't) that I was in pain.  That I had muscles hurting that I wasn't even aware that I possessed. 

My ass hurt.

Yeah, this was the opposite of fun. 

But, what did I do?  I went back for more. 

Why?  Partly because I thought I should go for my friend's sake (she was and is going through a tough time in her life) and partly to see if I could do this thing.  If I could finish it out.  If I was tougher than I thought.  And maybe to see just what I'm made of. 

So, week after week, two sessions a week, I let our amazingly tough boot camp leader run me through the paces.  It was grueling some weeks (hello, planks anyone?) but more than anything I would walk out of there exhausted and prouder than hell of myself. 

In the midst of all of this, I quit my two pepsi-a-day habit.  I started taking a water bottle to work and actually using the damn thing.  I cut down on sweets.  I started to watch what I ate.  I took my lunch more often than not.  And I was going for evening walks with my gal pal around our local sand pits (for those of you not native to this area - there is an amazing walking trail around our old sand pits and I recommend them to any and every one - get out and enjoy your town) on purpose. 

It occurred to me as the pounds were coming off and so were the inches that I was slowly becoming one of 'those' people.  I was become someone who exercised on purpose.  I was becoming one of those annoying folks that I hated standing around in the copy room who discussed low cal recipes. 

But I also realized I felt better than I have in my entire life about myself, about my body, about who I am.  I smiled more, was more relaxed and looked forward to that hour to undo some of the things that goes along with a busy mom and wife.  As much as I loved/love those bootcamp classes there was something so fundamentally 'fun' to me about popping in my earbuds and jamming to my 'workout' playlists.  And the first time I literally jogged a stretch of that walking trail, I felt like Rocky running up the effing steps in Philly (albeit with Adam Levine in my ears versus Survivor - times they are a changing yo). 

I've got a goal of being able to jog that whole walking trail by the end of summer. 

I have work out clothes. 

I now own small hand weights.

I also walk a little bit taller than I did before because I'm proud as hell that I not only duked it out in bootcamp but I'm carrying on with it. 

So yeah, there goes a fighter.  That's me.