I work out with a personal trainer 2-3 times a week. I have to push myself just to walk through the door to the gym because, when I'm there I'm surrounded by beautiful people with abs and biceps and no body fat. It makes me feel like a circus freak. Even my trainer is gorgeous (damn her). Just to prove it, here's a picture of me and my trainer:
Yes, my shirt says "EVERYTHING HURTS AND I'M DYING". It's a true expression of how I feel at the gym, both physically and emotionally.
It's very hard being at a gym surrounded by beautiful people. Plus, some of the trainers there work with high school athletes. Do you know how it feels to be fat AND old at the same time. Not good. Not good at all.
Still, I go to the gym. Diligently. Three days from today marks my 1 year anniversary working with my trainer. As you can see, I'm still fat. But I still go because I have ulterior motives. I'm not there to become a size 2. I'm there because I don't want to die. My mother died from heart disease when she was only 68. I don't want to die when I'm 68. So I choose to work out to strengthen my heart.
Now I'm not the greatest athlete (is there an Olympics for terrible athletes?) but I try very hard to accept every challenge my trainer gives me. Still, It's just not fair having to do it around all the pretty people. Yes, I'm very pretty. But not at the gym. At the gym I'm a sweaty, red-faced, stringy-haired troll doll. It's not a pretty sight. Here's an example:
Even though I'm not at my best after work outs, I actually have several pictures of myself taken after working out in the gym or going for 10+ mile bike rides. Yeah I look terrible, but those pictures remind me of my accomplishment. I EARNED that troll hair! At the gym, I'm surrounded by Barbie dolls and Mr. Universe contenders doing super cardio and bench pressing 200 pounds while I'm using 10 pound weights. But the truth is, I feel like the work I do is an accomplishment because of what I have to work with. I'm no athlete. I'm shaped like a potato. The rest of my gym mates are born athletes and have been sculpting and toning their bodies for years. I can't compete with that. No, I SHOULDN'T compete with that.
Last week I warned you about the dangers of comparing your life to your friends on social media. The same goes for people in real life. I'm not trying to be a Barbie doll or a Mr. Universe contender. I'm just trying not to die (though at times I secretly think my trainer is trying to kill me). It's a day-to-day struggle, but I'm learning to take pride in myself and be excited about my accomplishments. When I'm able to squat a little deeper, hold a plank a few extra seconds, or bend over and touch my toes I remind myself that those are things I couldn't do a year ago. Those are MY accomplishments. So I'm not going to compare myself to what all the athletes around me are doing. No, I'm just going to high five myself for a job well done.
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