Counting to 60, 60 Times and Other Fitness Lessons

Counting to 60, 60 Times and Other Fitness Lessons

From the ages of 12-18, I completely dedicated myself to competitive martial arts. I'd danced, played soccer, tried gymnastics- but none of it stuck like Tae Kwon Do. Part of my attraction was to the sport- I liked that I could hit, kick and punch away all my pent up teen anger and angst and depression and turmoil. 

The other part of it was that, through the sheer luck of the universe, I ended up finding a dojo that embraced me with open arms. The other kids were my siblings, and all of the adults were my Mamas and Pops. My teenaged home-life was chaotic at its worst and lonely from time to time. My mom travelled a lot for work, I was navigating a messy divorce in between.

To find a group of people who loved me AND a space where I could kick and punch my way out of problems AND get some tough love and firm boundaries (although I would never admit that as a teen) was probably the best thing that could've happened to me.

My friend Mimi and I posing with our sparring trophies at the US Open. She took 1st, I took 3rd.

And I was good, too. Well, decent. I worked hard, had goals, vented out life's frustrations, cleared my head, developed a community, and stayed out of trouble. I was in amazing shape, had a rockin' teen bod, and was more flexible than I thought possible (although still not super bendy). Tae Kwon Do gave me my extended family, my passion, drive and dedication, athleticism, and a space to land. It was self-care and preservation, although I didn't know those phrases at the time.

Basically, it was an idyllic family- until it wasn't. Long story- my dojo owner remarried a sociopath who kicked a bunch of us out for daring to question his methods (bad, restrictive, scary, lots of yelling).  I was almost off to college anyway, so I switched to my dojo's sister school for the summer. When I went to college, I tried to school's TKD club. I visited other martial arts dojos. Applied for jobs teaching kids martial arts. But it wasn't the same. I wasn't challenged in the same ways, nor was I welcomed and loved. Some of the other dojos' students were downright hostile. No thanks.

Anyway, I stopped doing martial arts. I went to grad school where I barely had time to shower, let alone work out. Stress, depression, poor diet, all of it combined and I ballooned up. I joined a gym and hired a trainer when I got to the thesis stage, and came closer to my rockin' bod again. After I moved, over, the depression came back with a vengeance and alcohol combined with poor eating slowly wore me down. 

Fast forward to 2017, January. I made a resolution to fall in love with fitness again. I visited the gym occasionally, but I don't push myself as hard as someone else will. There's no one to compete with, no one to cheer me on, no one to think up new and exciting routines. Yoga was great, but I'm really not that mellow of a person, no matter how hard I try.

I found a Groupon for a local bootcamp, run by a young, swole, energetic, and funny trainer. Despite nearly passing out the first day, because I was convinced I HAD to be the best one, I loved it. Even in summer, in this gawd-awful heat and humidity, sweat dripping down my face and back and boobs and shins, I love it. Even with a bum knee and a knee brace, I've embraced the free weights, the running, the burpees....

Me with my trophy AGAIN! This pic, from 05, is titled "My Pride and Joy" so...

Despite signing up to lose weight (and to meet some new local people), I've lost maybe 3 pounds. The only social time I've spent with anyone was giving my trainer a ride to the Metro.  I realized I love the socialness of big dinners and happy hours with friends, so maybe that's part of my downfall.  I'm also pretty shy when it comes to talking to people one on one. But what I've gained is so much more important.

I'm less judgemental of myself and others. I channel a day's worth of anger and rage into one hour, pouring everything into those repetitive movements. I came in thinking things like "This girl can probably run faster than me" or "Oh, I can easily out lift this skinny girl." Instead, I've watched in awe as tiny women use massive deadlifts, and cheered on my fellow bootcampers as they pass me, or when they need a boost.

I care less about how much weight I've lost and more about how strong I am. I take time to appreciate what my body can do and how far I've come. Although we're not quite family, there's a sense of camaraderie between our camp. I'm stronger, faster, and can run more than I have been able to ever in my adult life.  

For ten years, I didn't have that sort of physical self care. I needed to nurture my competitive spirit, find a community, and sweat my ass off. It's good to be back, feeling strong, confident, and powerful.

And when it gets too hard, I borrow from meditation- I try to count to sixty, sixty times, until the hour is up.