Fast forward to today's world. Angel, a friend of mine teaches a class called "Devoted Fitness." (You can read Angel's blog, My Journey to 200, here) So, what is devoted fitness? It's a dance class done to praise and worship music with prayer at the end. I have to admit it took more than one invitation to get me into the gym, but they do have free childcare and with John gone this week, I'm dying for adult conversation. Plus with last week's doctor visit, I decided I should do everything I can to get as much weight off as possible before going under the knife next week. Aside from all of that, now that I have actually gone to one class, I'm definitely going back. I had such a great time! I really liked we worked out to praise and worship music, I try to avoid secular music. I also love that we ended with a prayer. And, I have more energy today than I can remember having in months (maybe years). That's saying a lot since the boys decided to take turns playing the keep mommy up all night game last night. I should be moving around today with only the fuel of coffee, but I feel great. I LOVE how working out gives you energy.
So what happened in my life to get me out of the gym in the first place with no intent of ever entering a fitness class again? As I mentioned I was the teacher. I was in great shape. Most of the people in my classes were also. It really loved having new people in my class, but I had one or two regulars in each class that REALLY didn't appreciate anyone elses efforts to gain good health. Being the instructor, I guess they just felt compelled to tell me about it. So, when I moved away, I just never wanted to be that newbie I guess.
Then something else happened. A few years passed, a few pounds piled on, and at some point John and I decided to join a gym. I had spent the previous 2 years very ill and mostly in bed, so I was incredibly weak. We had been going to the gym regularly for about 5 or 6 months. I still opted not to take on any classes, but I had gained a good bit of strength and endurance in that time and was feeling rather proud of myself. Then I was using a machine one day and I noticed a trainer kind of staring at me. I thought about my form for a minute wondering if he was going to point out something I was doing wrong. Nope, he came right over to me and started hounding me about how someone my age should be able to handle more weight on the machine. We're talking a 2 or 3 minute mini-lecture here complete with a fat joke. When he finished he asked if I wanted him to add more weight to the machine. I responded telling him I had spent 2 years in bed and the current amount of weight on the machine was really all I could handle. His response, "My bad," with a little chuckle. In the grand scheme of things, not a seriously horrible thing to happen. It was enough to make me not return to that gym. Well, except for a haircut or two, they had and excellent salon that was far away from the trainers.
I'm determined not to let some jerk's opinion put a roadblock on my path to a healthy lifestyle this go around. If for no other reason, a healthy mommy is a better mommy. I had so much more energy when Nia was a toddler than I do now with the boys. We were always going on hikes, swimming, or playing with some kind of ball outside. I kind of feel like I'm cheating the boys with the lack of activities we do together. I can count on one hand how many times I've done all of those things with Cameron.