Taking Control

Sometimes you need to take control in your life.  Things feel like they are spinning so wildly out of control that if you don't find something to hang onto, you might not survive.  In 2010 there was a lot that I couldn't control (finances being the main one) and few things that I felt I couldn't control (weight being the main one here).  I would like to say that I had some epiphany, some knock-me-off-my-ass moment that made me say, "I can control my weight and it will change all!"  But no, it started with a simple Groupon code.  Doesn't everything in life?

A friend of mine actually called because she found a boot camp at a discounted rate on groupon.  She didn't want to do it alone and invited me along for the ride.  I was quick to say yes, enthusiastic even, until we actually signed up.  The realization hit me that instead of complaining about my weight, my health, about all of these things I was going to have to change them.  And that I could fail at this change.  The "what ifs" hit: What if I couldn't lose the weight?  What if I was too out of shape to complete boot camp?  What if my friend completed it, but I couldn't change my life?  But that's the beauty of working out with a friend, the competition kept me going.

I walked into boot camp the first day and we had to do a timed mile run.  One mile had never sounded so daunting.  I had never been a runner.  I could walk long distances at a pretty brisk pace, but running?  No thank you.  Various excuses always took over: my boobs are too big, I'm too fat, I just wasn't built for running, I can burn just as many calories.  Well boot camp didn't care.  I ran/walked that first mile in 13 minutes and 18 seconds.  Defeated, I went home a non-runner.  But the funny thing is, day after day I got better.  I pushed and eventually could run a mile on my own, then two, then three.

Many months later (I started this boot camp June of 2010) I am no longer in a boot camp, but run 5 miles a few times a week.  Am I a speedy runner?  No.  I average 12 minute miles when I am doing the 5.  Less if I am doing fewer.  Do I have a pretty stride?  No.  Do I look graceful.  Hell to the no.  But I am doing it.  The non-runner has started running.  And as with anything, the starting was the hardest part.