Most days.
Ever since my health challenges, I find myself wanting to work out as much as I can. For awhile there I had a great schedule, one that I could embrace the gym rat in me (yes, I had become one) and workout at least 5 days a week. My schedule changed and that followed with a significant injury. I still workout, but it's not enough in my mind.
You see, I'm not happy unless I'm not happy unless I'm kicking my own ass. Some of you who know me well are probably laughing and affirming my insanity, right? (I see you nodding your head!)
Think Jim Carrey and "Liar, Liar".
Until recently, I would not do any form of exercise other than running, cycling, massive circuit training (lifting the same weights as the men in my class) and more.
Yoga? Um, no thanks. That's for relaxation and zen-ness stuff, not exercise.
Zumba? Definitely not. I like to dance, but on a dance floor and after a few drinks (I suddenly become immensely flexible!)
Walking? Um. No. Why would I walk when I can run? Walking is for people who have themselves convinced they "can't" run.
So. Yup. What does Ms. Kick-My-Own Ass do? She does not use her brain, apparently. She kicks her own ass, time after time after time.
I have yet to learn how to listen to my body and I have yet to act my age. I am convinced there is a major dysfunction between my cerebral cortex and my limbs. Even when a friend recently called me "thick", I chuckled and took that as a compliment.
Well, it goes like this: I try to train with my 14 year old daughter and her teammates. Track sprints. I TOLD YOU I KICK MY OWN ASS! The first couple of workouts, I survived and in fact, I surprised these young girls as I nearly kept pace with them.
Then. It. Happened.
My 38 year old body said WTH?! Okay, really - it screamed at me in that voice...W...T...F, Rebecca!
It rebelled. In a big way.
I tore both my plantar fascia as well as my hamstring within two weeks of each other.
One part of me wears these battered body parts with a sick sort of pride. A confirmation that yes, I pushed myself and I pushed it hard. The other part of me is starting to rear its rational, motherly, and responsible side. How much do I need to push myself? Do I seriously need to push beyond my breaking point, as evidenced by these recent injuries?
No. I do not.
I need to go back to basics. I like to workout and I need to keep it that way. Why this is such a challenge for me? I cannot explain it rationally to you all.
Maybe now is the time to revisit my opinions about yoga. You know if I'm flexible, my ass kicking won't hurt so much!
I have been embracing hiking! I have tried a couple of yoga classes! I have walked. Yes. I walked laps and laps at soccer (and I only jogged and sprinted a little.......). I am trying hard to get there - that place that may just link my cerebral matter with the rest of me in a cohesive fashion.
Just trying to accept and act my age! Now will someone come play with me?!?
I love to walk. Wait...you knew that.
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