I have three distinct feelings that wash over me at various times when it comes to my relationship with Mr. Treadmill.
1. Oh my God! I can't do this! I'm too hot! I'm too tired! My legs hurt! My back aches! My big ass is dragging! I can't breathe! To Hell with this! I'm not doing it! (A.K.A. The Defeated Diva!)
2. Okay. This isn't so bad. Just a few more minutes. Okay. I should keep going. Just a few more minutes. Okay. I really should finish this song. Just a few more minutes. (A.K.A. The Determined Diva!)
3. Why hello there, Mr. Treadmill! I'm gonna show you just how fierce I am. 30 minutes? Bring it, B*tch! I'm gonna ride this thing all night cause I feel great and there's no stopping me! Huzzah! (A.K.A. The Back the Hell Up, Or I'll Run Your Ass Over Diva!)
Yup, all those personalities live in my head. God (and country) help us all.
My affair with Mr. Treadmill has been a tumultuous one of Wuthering Heights proportions.
When I was younger, there was nothing athletic about me. Physical fitness was not a part of my vocabulary. And it stayed that way for decades. It wasn't until I was well into my first year of Weight Watchers that I even took it seriously. And that came as a surprise. Watching what you eat is only half the equation. Physical activity is the other. That was not a shocker. What amazed me was that after I started losing weight, feeling better and having more energy than I had in forever, I wanted to do something with all of it!
Not that it wasn't terrifying at first. I decided that I would rather be shot in the face than attempt to become more active publicly. No Zumba classes for me, thank you. I needed something stationary and not complicated. And that's when I met Mr. Treadmill. He was stationary and really, how traumatic could walking on a moving belt be? Yeah. This is me we're talking about. My first foray into walking on a treadmill was just short of an epic disaster. I've never been the most graceful person (don't let the smooth taste fool you) and for the first few minutes I was afaid to let go of the handles or take my eyes off of my feet. And then I started pushing buttons without actually looking at what they were for. Cue my big ass being jetisoned across the room. Launching through the air was a rush! The impact of someone my size and stature hitting the ground I can assure you was not! But even that didn't discourage me from trying again. So I got back on...though not that day!
In time I got over my fears and self conciousness and started pushing myself a little more each day. Eventually I graduated from a leisurely pace, to brisk walks, to a nice little jog. Yes, I looked a hot mess. But with my dance floor divas blasting from my ipod and a smile on my face, I went for it. In time, I actually liked it. Not as much as I like peanut butter cups, but well enough. After a few months, with the confidence I established with Mr. Treadmill, I took my act out on the road and started walking the grounds and trails of local parks and even participated in a few 5K marathons/walks.
If you've been reading my blog, you know what happened next. To review, after my accomplishments, I got complacent. And after I was done being complacent, I became just damn lazy. And all that I had accomplished, all that I had learned walked out of my life as quickly as it had changed it.
Cue sad music. Poor Robby. And his big ass. Sad trombone.
But if you've been reading my blog you also know what eventually came out of that dark period of the last few years. One day I woke up, put down the chips and decided enough was enough. I can do this again! It's gonna suck and no it won't be as easy, but I have to start...NOW!
And I have. Every day is a new adventure making the right choices when it comes to food and being more active. Mr. Treadmill has reentered my life and I continue to feel all of those feelings about him I mentioned in the beginning of this blog. Somedays are easier than others. Somedays are funnier than others. One afternoon I thought calling a friend would pass the time while I was on the treadmill. It did, because it took me thirty minutes to convince him I was on the treadmill and that I was okay, not having cardiac arrest. Whatever, I put my time in. That's where I'm at right now. Thirty minutes a day. In time I will increase the speed and time. One small step for Robby... one giant leap for Robby-kind. Every day I remind myself: I want this! I can do this! I've got this!
This Month's Reality Check: There's an activity out there for everyone. If you've never been an active person or it's a concept you struggle with (like me), don't give up on yourself. Start small and be realistic! The simple act of taking a few extra steps every day is a great start.
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