My trainer sent me a text saying "Are we training 2nite?" And it started a whole inner conversation with me. "Oh, for the love of Pete, I've not slept and my brain is running in a 1000 different directions, and I feel like I'm about to pass out in the floor, and I feel like I have concrete blocks on my feet." But then the part of me who doesn't want to be the pudgy parson forever piped up and said "Choose better. Choose to fight. Give it what you have to give. Don't let yourself be derailed."
So I answered his text with "yeah. I'll give it what I have to give, but I'm zapped." I wanted to warn him, in case I didn't have much to give. I didn't want him to think I was just slacking. I was hoping that my body would wake up and ramp up. It didn't. And it wasn't a matter of my body saying "I can't" because I have done these things before. It was a tempter tantrum. My body shouted something worse than "I can't." It stomped its feet and said, "I won't do it. I won't. I won't I won't." Even though we'd done pretty much the same workout last week, everything felt new. My brain couldn't remember one thing to the next-- even though the trainer had just shown me. My heartrate kept skyrocketing, even though he had me doing things at a lower intensity. And body parts were really hurting. Not in a "wow you're getting a good workout" sort of way, but in an "if you don't stop it right now, you're going to injure yourself." My ever-watching trainer picked up on the small things I was doing, and quickly had me stop. Some part of me wanted to squint my eyes at him and muster an inner ferocity and say "Don't you dare stop me. I need to do this." But there was no ferocity to muster, and instead of fighting back, I think I was grateful. I wonder what I would've done had he not been there. I know my stress level is high, and I was hoping for the sort of physical exhaustion that would leave me spent. Had he not be there to watch my body (even picking up on things I wasn't saying), I wonder if I would've kept on pushing.
It was a crappy workout. And instead of feeling the rush of endorphins when we finished, I felt deflated and defeated. I didn't feel like I had achieved anything. I'm still grouchy about it-- and am itching to head out the door and run, to show my body that it is not the boss-- that it answers to my heart and soul. But clearly my body is saying something. It's trying to tell me that it's not getting something. Part of the wisdom I expect I will receive from my trainer is learning how to listen to my body. That's important. Because while I want a nice, strong body-- I also want wholeness and shalom and balance. I want to work with my body. I don't ever want to be so shortsighted that I'm stupid.
I think I fell asleep at 7:30 last night-- while I was icing my knee, no less. (Sorry, Trainer J...I'm icing it this morning. Twice.) I didn't drag myself out of bed until well after 7 this morning. Maybe that's what I needed. And maybe having answered the need, my body and I can come to an agreement: that "won't" is a dumb word and is not to be used very often.
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