Trust and Confidence

There was a time in my life when I trusted my body. I mean I really trusted it. I could be reasonably certain that if a friend wanted to go on a bike ride or for a hike or for a run that I could hang. I may or may not have been comfortable. I may or may not have been having fun. But certainly I could have done it. I remember going for hikes with my friends on the weekends and one of them saying, "I feel like a long, hillier hike today. Want to do the 8 mile loop?" and, while I might make them promise that we could get smoothies after, I was game.

If I were to plan to go on a 8 mile hike today, it certainly would not be an afterthought. I would worry about it ahead of time and seriously consider backing out. Not because I don't want to go, but because I am not sure that I can go right now. There are just no guarantees that I could make it on a 8 mile hike without severe chafe, dehydration, exhaustion or other injury. I am dragging around an extra 100 pounds, and that gets tiring quickly.

A few months ago I was taking a short walk in the redwoods with my brother and his family and I scooted ahead to check out a part of the trail. On the way back, I stepped down with all my weight on my right leg and felt my tibia bend. It was a second away from breaking. Now, you have to understand. I used to run trails like that. I have never felt my tibia bend. It made me realize how much extra downward force there is on my skeletal system right now and it kind of freaked me out.

Moments like this are what add up to create the pit of fear that I now live with every day. When I watch "The Biggest Loser" and I see the contestants crying over their workouts with their coaches screaming at them, it makes me feel terrible for them. Not just because I don't really subscribe to "scream coaching", but because I know something now that I didn't know before: those people want to do the workout. They just don't think they can do the workout. They're as worried about their legs breaking and their hearts exploding as I am. And to us those are real concerns.

Nevertheless, the only way out is through, and I know that if I am ever going to trust my body again, I have to start using it. I have already suffered through my first little boxing workout. The routine was nothing but jabs and crosses, and it exhausted me. 10 years ago, I could have done this routine in my sleep. I would have considered it a warm up. But now, it feels like 10 rounds in the ring. Just me vs. myself, circling each other and wondering who is going to throw the next punch.