During the majority of my 20s, I was a blob. I drank lots, smoked lots and generally had the motivation of a sloth. A lazy sloth. My friend Sandi would drag my reluctant (and jiggly) ass to aerobics class where I would huff and puff in the back of the room, swearing at the instructor under my breath that I was sick and f*&^ing tired of this bull%$#@. It never failed to amuse my friend, who loved exercise as much as I detested it.
Thankfully I grew out of that.
I had joined a gym when I quit smoking and did weight training and some cardio on the stair climber. I discovered yoga when my son was a baby, clumsily following a daily half hour yoga show and then venturing out to actual classes. Ashtanga Yoga and I became good friends. I learned to enjoy the sweat. I fell in love with achey muscles. I reveled in feeling good. I’d plonk Nick in the stroller and walk, on purpose, up hills.
Then I decided that I wanted to start running. I’d run and get so tired I’d feel like yakking in the ditch. I couldn’t seem to ever improve to the point where I could run longer than two minutes. Serendipity prevailed for me and a running clinic was offered in Nelson. Every Sunday morning for 12 weeks, I dedicated myself to the clinic. At first, we ran 30 seconds and walked for four and a half minutes, doing that a bunch of times. During the week, it was up to me to stick with it and keep up with the interval running. The following week, the time of actually running would increase and walking would decrease. By the end of the 12 weeks, I was giddy and overjoyed because I could run for an hour without stopping. The following week, I completed my first 10k race, with a time of just over an hour. Not the fastest, that’s for sure, but I wasn’t racing anyone other than my Self.
I’ve kept up with running. I picked up skiing. I got new cross country skiis. I delved into a deeper and stronger Yoga practice. I’ve been enjoying Bootcamp twice a week. (I really thought I would hate it, but found out that working your butt off with a bunch of women has a real inspiring flavour to it.)
I’m fitter than I have ever been in my entire life, here in my 40s.
And I like it. I love to sweat. I love to push myself harder just to see what I can do. Truly, I feel that I am honouring this body, this temple I am inhabiting. When I can’t exercise, I feel out of sorts. I actually crave it.
I have a friend who is a certified fitness instructor and I find great motivation from him and his stories and his dedication to living a healthy lifestyle. He has great tips for getting started, staying motivated and stepping it up when you need to. He used to be a fat-ass like me, so you can actually believe what he says!
If you feel like this is your time, go for it! Be realistic, take your time, set goals and have fun!!!