I started Snatched thinking that it was going to totally revamp my approach to working out. There would be kettlebells and pushups and deadlifts, oh my! I knew that the diet would be a struggle, but the workouts! Oh! The workouts would be the bread and butter!
I was wrong. [No surprise.]
Now, don’t get me wrong. The workouts are amazing. They are ridiculously fun. I’ve NEVER enjoyed group classes. I’ve always gotten much more satisfaction out of torturing myself on the treadmill. Every group fitness class I’ve ever taken has always left me feeling like I could have accomplished more on my own.
This is not so anymore. On the days when I arrive feeling weak, sluggish, tired, or unmotivated, I become energized and invigorated by the people around me and the amazing instructors. The classes are thebomb.com. Sure, they kick my ass. I leave an inviting pool of sweat on my mat for the next poor soul [not really… I mop it up, of course!]. I feel like I’ve really DONE something at the end of class.
Today, after a particularly grueling session, I had this conversation with a friend.
Me: God! That class was impossible!
Her: It wasn’t impossible! You did it! You finished it!
SHE IS TOTALLY RIGHT!
The food aspect of this whole thing? THAT is where I’m working through some major shit. I feel like I’m just beginning to scratch the surface, but I can tell you this: I have a fucked up relationship with food (and, by extension, drink). It’s a punishing, omni-present, self-abuse that spans the majority of my life (at least since high school). I don’t really have a whole lot of insight here, but I feel like my eyes are being opened. Maybe someday I’ll have some clarity. For now, I have my Snatched community and my therapist [thank god].
So, I’m trying to learn from the process. Some days are easier than others. Sometimes I eat an entire box of Fiber One in one sitting. Some days I’m overwhelmed by ALL of the food I have to consume at dinner time. Every day, I’m learning.
This week, I don’t have much to report. I’m bloated, so my weight is higher than last week. Oh well. I’m not going to beat myself up about it. I don’t really think you can tell in the pictures, and at the end of the day, only *I* know what the scale says [well… except for the fact that I report it to you… but… I could lie and you wouldn’t know. You know what can’t lie? The pictures. Cause I don’t know how to use photoshop.]
So here we go.