If you asked me when I thought I reached my absolute point of total hotness, my answer would be ten years old. Having started to develop breasts at the age of eight and menstruating at nine, by sixth grade I was constantly mistaken for a college student.
When I was eleven, a rapid weight gain of 30lbs in 30 days put an end to my middle school hotness. My skin became clouded with acne and dark hairs sprouted from wherever they damn well pleased. The weight continued to pile on. My periods became irregular and often appeared every two weeks as opposed to every month. I was a mess.
Conquering Fear and Living in the Moment
Imagine it’s race day. You’ve been preparing for this for the last few months or longer. This is the day where you can show off all your hard work, maybe with your first race finish or a new personal best.
You should be excited, but instead your stomach is in knots. That little voice in your head, the one that loves to tell you how much you suck, is at it again. It’s whispering that you’re not as good as the people around you. It tells you that you’re going to finish dead last and be a laughingstock. It shouts that you’re not prepared.
The race starts, and as you begin to move, that little voice cries, “Look at all those people who are passing you!” Your knee twinges a little, and the voice starts in on how you’re not even going to be able to finish. You still have forever to go!
Does this sound familiar?
So a couple of years ago, my wife, Nikki, and I are at a party where we encounter a few friends we haven’t seen in a while. Conversation gets around to how we’d just run the Prague marathon, which our friends meet with the typical incredulity non-runners feel towards the willful madness of running 26.2 miles. A half hour later we’re all on the porch having a smoke.
Halfway through our personal training session my client became disoriented, unfocused, and weepy. Before we began working together she told me that she was a trauma survivor. We were stretching in a peaceful studio when she became overwhelmed with emotion.
“I don’t understand why this is happening now,” she said.
“You brought your body with you,” I reminded her.