Fitness is vulnerable. I wish I could claim that statement as my own, but really it stemmed from someone else’s blog where she was talking about showing up for the things that are hard for us, instead of what we always default to out of comfort.
Most physical endeavors I have ever pursued have at one point or another been difficult for me. Not because I’m not somewhat naturally athletic, but because the Type A competitor in me and the perfectionist tendencies I harbor usually push me to work on a project until I not only get it, but master it. Over the years, these projects have varied depending on my life at the time and my focus physically. I competed on stage in the bodybuilding world after selling my horse training business (where I competed extensively and had my entire life), and then found obstacle course racing. I swam when I was younger and then picked it back up when I couldn’t run or do anything weight bearing from a torn right hip. I have dabbled with a myriad of other things which Part Two will explore further, but what I have really found, is that within these larger projects were micro-projects, the core of them being Alison.
I did not know that in the pursuit of physical greatness (which is relative), that I was really trying to work on myself. I didn’t know that learning how to be entirely symmetrical (ambidextrous as most would label it) on a horse, would stretch me to work on inherent weaknesses that started in my mind, and not my left side. I didn’t know that learning how to pace myself for Ironman swimming distances would crack open my inner quitter and teach me how to beat her. I didn’t know that learning how to isolate a tiny muscle in my shoulder while lifting and calling my core to work would make me focus on the very moment it was happening, and expose the incredible difficulty I have in being fully present right now no matter what. I didn’t know that I sucked so much at being explosive because I have worked so hard at being rigid and upright my entire life. Coming off of the ground with momentum and in one movement is still really hard for me, and has the ability to make me feel inept after never allowing myself to do so ever before (physically, or emotionally). It exposes fears that I didn’t know I had, and requires a grit I wouldn’t have otherwise found. The world of OCR (obstacle course racing) introduced me to a way of moving that was fun. After bodybuilding, I desperately needed a form of training that I could enjoy and use, and OCR did that for me. It bridges the gap between strength and endurance, grit and stamina. It bridges the gap between body and mind. It forces you to nourish your body instead of starving for a judge to tell you “sorry, not today.” It also brings out the little kid in you, if you allow it. You may fall of the monkey bars or find the bucket too heavy to carry, but ultimately tackling obstacles makes even the smallest of us feel like superheroes, and I think that is worth trying at least once if you haven’t already.
For years, I had to be the best. I had to end up in the top 10, or 5, or 3. I had to walk away with a piece of medal. I used to want to go to the Olympics for horseback riding, and although I was very good, I didn’t have the politics or the money or the right animals underneath of me to get there. Within this pursuit of needing to be the best, instead of my best and walk away with a number attached, I suffered. It robbed me of the gratitude of being able to show up at all and perform feats that even my own mother couldn’t because of her MS. It robbed me of being humble and gracious in having a body. It robbed me of taking care of that body, and being friends with her. It robbed me of the fundamentals – why did I feel inclined to keep showing up physically, if I wasn’t enjoying it?
I got obsessed. I got stuck. I got to thinking that my underlying current of I am not enough unless I achieve X result was true. And it’s not. Fitness is my personal journey closer to the God that I have come to understand. Fitness is a path I have found that leads me closer to my own self and my own truth every single day. For me, fitness is meditative in nature, and continually exposes weakness and vulnerability that I wouldn’t find as quickly. It shows me how I can be mean to myself, and then on others. It shows me how I can miss, but it also shows me how I can win and how truly awesome my own company is. Running for hours by yourself will do that – it has taught me how to be friends with Alison. And I’m finding that she’s pretty rad.
Stay tuned for Part Two …