Hi, Irony. I'm Christy.

my 'space' at boot camp this morning...

This morning was my first official session of Boot Camp.  I paid actual money to get up at 5am on Tuesday and Thursday mornings (plus a bonus session on Saturday mornings at 7am which I don't consider torture because it's that or fighting my husband for the coffee as the tiny humans run wild).  For what?  Well, for someone to reduce my sizable (at least more than it used to be) ass to a whimpering, sweaty puddle.

I showed up - on time, even! - with my mat, my weights, and my water bottle (should have brought several gallon jugs, as it turns out) and was directed to a spot in the parking lot.  This spot.  The handicapped one.  I nearly died laughing right then and there.

Because as it turns out, I am disabled in the health and wellness category these days.  After my youngest was born I harnessed the nervous energy and what little strength I had and turned it towards remaking my outer self, all to try and bring something much-needed to my inner self.  In the throes of postpartum depression, with a toddler and a NICU infant who had a birth injury to boot, I started going to the gym.  Every day.  Like, really - every day.  Like those women we all hate.  I was one of the Mommy Mafia, with an ipod, a laser-focus and my kids at the childwatch room.  It was my time.  It was my escape.  It was my sanity.

And it worked.  I lost 93 pounds and found so much along the way.  I realized why "they" say that you should take time for yourself, that if you do you will be a better person, spouse, mother, daughter, friend, neighbor, pedestrian, driver, grocery shopper, whatever.  And I also was the most fit - mentally, physically, emotionally - that I have been maybe ever.  It was wonderful.

And now, months later, I am miserably back to having to start over.  Not totally over.  But in the months since I started working part-time, handling the occupational therapy sessions my son needs, and dealing with life in general, I've gained back 20+ of those well-earned pounds, and I forgot the part about how working out and eating right makes me feel not only in the now, but in the later.

I don't think that going to the gym every day is necessary - or possible - for me anymore.  But I do think that being kind to my body in terms of what I eat and how much I eat is essential.  And I do know that being brutal to my body in terms of vigorous workouts and strict attention to eating less and moving more is critical.  

Handicapping myself by not being healthy isn't something that just punishes me.  I have tiny humans who watch everything I do and say, and family and friends who love me.  It is my responsibility and privilege to take care of myself.

Even if that means doing wind-sprints and lunges before 6am.