Thursday, April 19, 2012


Some days, I really have to slog myself to the gym. Between general RA exhaustion and general dealing with junior high drama exhaustion, some days I really have to talk myself into driving to the gym after work. However, I try to remind myself of some basic truth, and I usually haul my ever-expanding behind to inflict some torture upon myself.

When I arrive at the gym, I nearly always see something inspiring. As you all know, Kev and I have been personal training together. Generally, we spend half an hour running stairs, doing squats, wood choppers and burpees, and trying to avoid death by fitness. A few weeks ago, I saw a 60ish year old woman running stairs and doing woodchoppers in a forty pound weight vest. Trainer James just smirked at me, and I decided to up the level of my independent workouts.

Last week, I saw a visibly pregnant woman doing a series of complicated combination moves with free weights. Lunges with bicep curls, pushups with tricep pull-ups, side squats- this lady was killing it. She had to at least be five months pregnant. I'm really hoping her workout was doctor approved, and I can't help but admit her dedication. Girl had moxie.

This week, as I was leaving the gym, a kindly elderly man smiled at me and asked me "Did you have your best workout today?" His question really hit home. Not whether I did a certain amount of reps or how much I lifted. Not how many calories I burned. Did I do my best?

I've learned from my compatriots at the gym that getting there pays off. For every step I take with fitness, the universe seems to meet me halfway and send me some motivation to come back tomorrow. I'm never going to be thin, and I want to respect my RA. However, I can be curvy and healthy at the same time. I guess the slogging is worth it.

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