Proud is a word that is thrown around a lot these days. I don't always agree with the uses, and I was raised not to show it. My mom had a misguided sense of humility. She's not alone, but that's not what I want to discuss right now. I'm going to enjoy a moment of pure pride.
18 months ago ...I didn't like myself, and I convinced myself that if I was just thin again everything would be better. So I joined a gym and got with the trainer there. He's a patient man, but will NOT accept "I can't do that" as an answer. It's exactly what I needed. I started SLOW. I couldn't do much. 25 pushups sounded like Mt Everest. Mike didn't care, he just helped me find what strength I did have and just a little I didn't know I had.
12 months ago ...I didn't like that I wasn't losing weight at the gym and I got discouraged, but Mike wouldn't accept that. He quietly waited for me to come back to my senses. I was starting to be able to do pushups, crunches, lift weights. Mike pushed me toward 50 pushups in the course of a workout. Even a month ago, I struggled terribly to get 100 push ups. They were even broken up in many, many sets. So today when Mike said "500 pushups, 500 squats." I caught myself thinking THERE IS NO WAY. I *might* get to 100. There is no way I'll get 500.
I got 500! Proud of me?
1 comment:
Wowza...very proud!
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